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.
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!!
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.
shhh i don't know what you're speaking of
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. ]
uh huh uh huh SURE.
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.
/a good truthful bean
… 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. ]
doooooubt.
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.
;; but the hydro
he shouldn’t feel fine.
his wristband was confiscated with the rest of his gear, leaving him exposed in more ways than one when he was first shoved into his cell. he remembers the way his body had ached then, the whole of him stressed with an anxiety that he couldn’t calm from. the following fights exasperated the pain, helping it dig so deep that he felt it everywhere: his tendons, his veins, his bones. he’d felt hollowed out and weak, like he was made of brittle pieces just one hard shove away from breaking apart.
… but after awhile, he stopped hurting.
he is under no illusion that a miracle has happened. for a time there, he thought, maybe, the poking and prodding in that fucking lab led to a cure. the druids had to have done something to him, right? how else would his body have been able to withstand fight after fight after fight? now though, he thinks it’s more in line with what he said before: there’s a lot wrong with his body, including his head. he simply became numb to his own fragility, akin to a fight or flight instinct that got stuck on fight. survival of the fittest… or perhaps in shiro’s case, survival of the most stubborn.
he’s feels it now, though. maybe not right now, but he thinks it’s more than just the nip in the air that strains his limbs and hampers the ease of his movements. he’s still sick. he will always be sick. it’s simply a question of timing. and right now? the timing is not right to unload on keith. so is anyone surprised when shiro deflects? ]
Will you even believe me if I say I’m okay?
[ he’s kind about it, at least. he smiles in an exhausted way, part fond by the intensity of keith’s reaction, all the while patient as he helps pull the edge of that blanket higher, to cover one of his shoulders better. ]
... i can't argue with the hydro. it is perfect in every way.
all at once, keith is mentally reeling, spiraling, suffocating as the adrenaline spike from shiro's shouting and the dead body in the room down the hall collapses from under his feet. the cabin blurs as tears well in his eyes from the overwhelming exhaustion flooding his system. keith bites his lower lip, eyes squeezed shut in some furious, last-ditch effort to keep it together.
he isn't supposed to fucking cry. the space war has made him come face to face with the possibility of death so many times now, and despite the bone-deep chill in his arteries and veins, he isn't dying now. neither is shiro, for that matter.
except maybe shiro is ... just in some drawn-out process that will silently chip away at his vitality on an accelerated timeline. keith slumps forward, forehead pressed heavily on one of shiro's broad shoulders, grip now slack on his arm.
will you even believe me if I say I’m okay?
fuck. his answer is supposed to be yes. shiro is the expert of his own physical condition. who else is meant to know better? it's just... ]
I want to believe you so badly that I'm scared you'd lie just to make me feel better.
[ the words come out murmured, choked through a heavy clog in his throat as keith leans a little heavier, arm starting to wrap loose around shiro's waist only to pause with a barely audible sniff. ]
You're wet. You need to take it all off, Shiro.
ofc it is. it is full of babies.
he hates himself a little in the moment, though he recognizes the hurt he’s inflicting is an unintentional byproduct of simply existing. it’s not like he chose to be sick. he simply is.
i want to believe you so badly –
keith leans against him, mumbling through words that are far too thick to get through with ease, and shiro does what he can to make it easier by extending his arm around his shoulders, supporting keith with a firm hold. before, shiro had been partially fond by the magnitude of care embedded in keith’s reaction, but now… shiro isn’t sure how to feel. guilty, per usual, and sad, of course. he’s curious, too, though. he remembers a younger keith, who stomped up to him in garrison issued boots, only to lose that fight with a fracturing of his expression. keith hadn’t cried then, but shiro remembers, for a moment, thinking he might.
they were close at galaxy garrison. mentor and mentee turned best friends, despite the hefty age gap and rank disparity. they’d been in vastly different points in their lives – shiro already set in his career and keith trying to build his – so even though shiro hadn’t hesitated back then when dubbing keith his best friend, he was also well aware of an inherent distance that prevented them from fitting that title to a t. amazingly, it seems as though distance has deepened their friendship.
no, he corrects. not their friendship. keith’s friendship with shiro's future self.
how much closer have they become? how much more has keith come to care for his best friend? shiro doesn’t doubt that keith has cared about his well-being for a long time now, but he certainly hadn’t gotten choked up about it last time, when he was younger, when he was, arguably, more susceptible to emotion. when he wasn’t a battle-hardened warrior. not that warriors can’t show emotion, but… well, shiro has certainly become a blood-soaked warrior and he knows better than to release the tight leash he keeps on his own feelings.
so this isn’t him compromising. this is him remembering how to empathize; providing just enough to be comforting, without giving himself away in the process. ]
My body has changed a lot… just not in the one way I would've wanted it to.
[ said lightly, almost humorously, shiro maintains that tired, little smile of his. ]
It's okay, though. I'm not in pain. [ more importantly: ] I'm managing.
[ it’s been a long day already, which is frankly, a more probable explanation for keith’s flare up of emotion. so shiro sighs a soft sound and begins to release keith by the shoulder. ]
But you're right. I could be warmer and I know you could be, too. [ a gentle untangle and pull away, then shiro begins to push himself to his feet. ] Let me pull that couch over here and then we’ll get situated.
;; it is a work of art
it's almost laughable how understated that is. on some level, keith realizes that shiro says it like that because of him. because he's failing to be a sturdy rock for his best friend to lean on. ordinarily, that thought alone would have been the catalyst to some self-loathing bullshit, but in the moment? even his inadequacy feels detached from reality.
everything does, really. it's okay though. i'm not in pain. keith can't decide if the lie makes him want to laugh or throw up. maybe both at the same time? that'd certainly be one way of guaranteeing that shiro will never open up to him on this issue again. a dissociative paralysis sets in, like the opposite of fight or flight with every cell in his body absolutely convinced that any kind of reaction right now is a fatal mistake.
he allows shiro to disentangle and stays kneeling on the floor, staring holes into the worn couch. realistically, nothing has changed. shiro has been sick this whole time, both when they were in the city and now here. the need for them to escape this crazy simulation or whatever this is is still their top priority. and yet, keith sees everything in a new dismal light. or maybe that's just the fire casting new flickering shadows from behind.
keith shudders as he finally remembers to breathe. luckily, what comes out of his mouth is neither a laugh nor vomit. instead, it's a whisper strained with too many emotions. ]
... I'll do better. Be better. Actually, be helpful, instead of a burden. Promise.
i just don't know how juniper and jupiter are going to fit on there
… i’ll do better.
shiro pauses, breath catching for a hold again as he listens to those self-damning words. that, added with the image of keith there by the fire, draped in a blanket that makes him look smaller and more fragile, despite most of his body being hidden, well… – shiro blows out a breath that sounds heavier than it's felt. the next batch of sound is the legs of the couch dragging against the hardwood floor as shiro scoots it the few feet closer to the fireplace. satisfied with its placement, shiro slowly rounds the couch to the front, coming in line with keith there by the fire. he doesn’t sigh again, but there’s a soft breathiness to his voice, once more sounded exhausted. ]
I’ve never thought of you as a burden.
[ a part of him is disappointed in keith for suggesting it, but as always, shiro is quick to shift the disappointment toward himself. has he been too tough on keith, to make him think he isn’t good enough? that he’s a failure? he doesn’t crouch beside him again. he does, however, come to stand close to him, bending down just enough to brave touching his head. it’s still not a hair ruffle; it’s little more than the weight of his palm over the crown of keith’s head in what is meant to be a comforting hold. ]
Because you’re not one. You never will be one.
[ he holds the position for one, two beats after those words quiet, wanting them to not only sink in, but also be accepted as truth. with the time spent, he then lifts his hand and straightens up. ]
Now come on, up you go. [ he gestures to the couch, stepping back as he does so to give keith plenty of room. ] Here’s your front row seat to the fire… pretty nice, huh?
no subject
so what right does keith have to argue? none. none whatsofuckingever.
the stubbornness holds in keith's face for one, two beats as he lifts his head, pressing up into the palm of shiro's hand. then, it fractures, but not in a way that leaves him with tear-filled eyes. rather, the strings connecting his soul to his body are cut and the light in his eyes is extinguished.
he gets up silently, obediently shuffling towards the couch to take a seat on the edge. he wastes no time in scooting back and lying down on his side, eyes on the orange-red glow of the fire. ]
...yeah. I guess so.
no subject
with keith’s health taking center stage for the past hour or so, shiro has had little attention for the state of his attire. between carrying a lake soaked keith and the flecks of snow that has now melted in the heat of the cabin, he’s just as keith said he was. wet. zippers, buttons, ties… shiro goes through everything and anything, the entire process taking a few minutes. throughout, shiro doesn’t check, not even once, to see if keith has dragged his gaze from the fire to steal a peek. it doesn’t matter anyway, because soon, shiro is standing there, bare of everything except a pair of boxers that cling to his hips.
with slightly numb toes, shiro nudges his discarded pants further into the makeshift pile of clothing there on the floor. he really ought to hang everything up or at the very least, drape them off the back of some chairs. exhaustion makes him lazy and laziness makes him subdued. perhaps the fire’s heat will reach his pile and dry them out that way.
unconcerned at present, shiro draws a breath and then peels off the last of his clothing. with it added to the pile, shiro then turns back to the curled lump on the couch, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides as he stamps down the urge to use them as shields to the many, many unsightly parts of his body. mustering a smile is difficult, but doable as he leans down to tug at the bottom corner of keith’s blanket. ]
Still got room in there for me?
no subject
a lot of keith's life has been spent feeling that, really. after his dad died and after shiro left for kerberos were the two loneliest periods he remembers, and while this twinge in his soul doesn't come anywhere close, it's still shocking to be caught up in even an echo of those feelings. after all, being with shiro isn't supposed to be lonely.
guilt piling on fast, keith shifts his focus towards his best friend only to quickly look back to the fire when he realizes shiro is starting to strip out of his boxers.
right.
after all that, they're supposed to be huddling for warmth together. keith hasn't forgotten that exactly, but the logistics of that plan of action had lost all emotional timbre.
goes to show what getting an eyeful of bare skin can do, huh? with heat rushing to color his cheeks, keith tries to politely keep his eyes averted as he rolls onto his back to free up half the blanket for shiro to crawl under. keith could leave it at that and let shiro take his cue without another word, but it wouldn't be quite right. shiro, of all people, deserves better than this. ]
You know I'll always make room for you.
no subject
it’s been a long time. too long if he’s getting lost, even for a moment, in the ambience of firelight and the crackling of wood. red and orange hues have keith looking warmer and more inviting stretched out there on the couch, and while shiro knows there is absolutely nothing attractive about a near death experience that has led to a necessity for shared body heat, well…
again, it’s been a long time. it doesn’t help that keith is a lot more grown up than the kid shiro left behind on earth. fuck, this is keith, he reminds himself, and promptly shakes himself out of… whatever that lapse in concentration was. ]
Yeah? [ a brief, amused huff. ] Generous of you.
[ … or something. shiro isn’t entirely certain what they’re actually talking about anymore and that’s fine enough, because he’s moving in the next moment. there’s a quickness to his movements that speaks of an awkwardness, as well as a nervousness, that he is trying to hide behind that forced smile of his. for how tactile shiro has been with keith, this is on an entirely separate level, one that he never anticipated reaching. even if it is for wellness and survival, the intimacy of it is nerve wracking.
so he lies down before hesitation can entirely eat away at his resolve to see this through and then he’s getting the edge of the blanket over himself. or trying to, at least. trying because the couch isn’t wide enough to allow shiro to lie on his back, too. ]
I guess I’m a little big.
[ humor marks his voice and the smile becomes a touch more genuine as he, briefly, hangs partially off the cushion's edge. ]
How about we… [ a shift, partially turning toward keith. ] I’ll just… [ now a full turn onto his side, his arm having nowhere to go except across keith, there, underneath the blanket. ] Christ, you’re cold.
[ it’s suddenly so much easier to shuffle in close until their bodies touch, shiro crowding keith into the cushion. ]
You can – you should… [ turn toward him and curl into his chest? so shiro can fully cocoon him into his warmth? the explanation alludes him as he blows out a breath, fingertips light but consistent against keith’s ribs. ] It’s okay, use me to get warm.
no subject
I don't wanna use you.
[ it's said in a quietly fierce voice. evidently, someone didn't get the memo that a joke was made. however, keith does tentatively roll onto his side, albeit still careful not to align skin-to-skin. for what reason, he couldn't fully say.in fact, the longer he dwells on it, the more keith feels like some fucking deviant for even thinking any of this is intimate at all when this whole mess was a product of his own near-lethal idiocy.
expression faltering,keith drops eye contact, looking now where the blanket is pulled up high to shiro's neck. one deep breath, and keith closes his eyes, finally letting entropy roll his body forward to lightly bump against shiro's. ]
...I'm sorry. I'm being stubborn for no good reason.
[ a beat, then he lifts his arm to loosely drape low around shiro's waist. ]
And I don't know why. You saved me and you keep saving me, even though I... you know, even though ... [ we might be strangers from different realities. unsurprisingly, cowardice prevails over honesty and keith falls silent before adjusting pathetically. ] ... you don't have to.
[ another beat, then keith inches closer, tentatively pressing his nose to shiro's neck. ]
But I guess you wouldn't be you if you didn't save people from their worst instincts, old-timer.
no subject
speaking of maturity, keith backtracks and then they’re dealing with apologies again. that is far less amusing, especially with the amount of nonsense that follows. the attempt to salvage the conversation is appreciated, but not enough to smooth out those bumps, though there is a reprieve in rebuttal, mostly due to a very cold nose touching his neck. he muscles down any sort of urge to lean away from that frozen point and instead, breathes through those first moments, until his body accepts it.
throat no longer locked up from the shock of it, shiro relaxes and curls his arm more comfortably around. ]
I don’t know what you mean by I don’t have to.
[ does this tip the scales and give more credence to the possibility that they are from entirely different realities? did keith’s shiro neglect to vow that he will never give up on him? said so long ago but said with such meaning, shiro still remembers that moment clearly. he’s committed to it, even though, at the time, he meant it more socially, in the form of support, rather than protecting him from monsters and death. ]
Don’t underestimate your value. You mean a great deal to me, Keith.
[ shiro likes keith as a person, as a friend. they get along like peanut butter and jelly. but it’s more than that. shiro is homesick. he’s been fighting to keep the hope alive that he will somehow find his way back to everything he left behind on launch day and while he hasn’t achieved that, he has found keith. keith is the only piece of home shiro has. more specifically, keith is the only link to who shiro used to be before. in a weirdly selfish way, keith’s safety is not purely for keith; shiro needs him to be safe to maintain his own sanity.
caught up in those thoughts, shiro continues to run his mouth, saying just a little bit more than he is entirely comfortable revealing. ]
It’s been so long since I’ve been able to care about anyone other than myself… and I – I don’t want to go back to being that person.
[ back to that thing. the arena flashes in mind and on reflex to shield himself from it, shiro curls a little more into himself via a tighter pull of his arm and a bending of his knees. one knee gets between keith’s legs and the arm brings keith even closer, to bump chests. unwilling to close his eyes out of fear of what he’ll see, shiro stares over the disarray of keith’s hair and to the back of the couch, breathing out a new vow. ]
I’m going to keep caring for you. I want to.
no subject
figures that as soon as he's thought that, shiro actually veers towards the past. it's shocking in that shiro never talks about the past. it comes up in flashes and by inference, but more often than not i don't rememberi don't remember a polite stand-in for i don't want to talk about it??
the doubt never grows roots if only because shiro would never intentionally withhold important information bout the galra. ... but then sometimes keith thinks about the smashed glass of sendak's pod and how shiro never talked about that either.
not that this shiro is the same, right?
a not-so-subtle press makes keith's breath hitch. they're even closer now, with just a minimal amount of space keeping their hips and legs... and other things from being fully aligned. as hard as keith tries not to think about it because there's nothing about this that's sexual, it still makes hm flush pink as he slowly lets out his stale breath.
whether this is still his shiro from the past, or another shiro entirely, one thing is for certain: they're treading new ground together, and keith can't get his head straight to process any of it. giving into the heaviness of his eyelids, keith closes his eyes and tightens the drape of his arm arond shiro's waist, closing up the space between their hips and shivering through the zip of sparks as his cock rests against warm skin. ]
Okay. But that means I get to take care of you. I feel like I haven't really done a good job of that in a while...
[ here, in the city, since forming voltron. the timelines blend in keith's head, but one way or another, he's determined not to let simple things like the basic state of shiro's ilness be a mystery to him again. ]
So I wanna know ... everything. How you're feeling ... if you're hurting.... everything.
no subject
this isn’t galaxy garrison, though. it might not even be earth. more damningly, neither of them are who they were before, so shiro isn’t so hard-nosed into shutting out keith’s need to match his care. it’ll be a learning process but he is… willing. somewhat. at the very least, they are helping each other right now. does that count?
maybe not, because shiro isn’t as relaxed as he had been a few moments ago. the problem – if he can categorize it that way – comes from keith shifting closer. the points of their bodies align and then there’s a brush, a slide, a rest… a… twitch…?
no.
his grip doesn’t let up but he goes oddly still, even his breaths shortening into longer holds as he tries not to shift, even a minute amount from an inhale or an exhale.
so i wanna know… everything.
keith is certainly feeling everything right now – or should. does he not notice? putting aside the wildly inappropriate, unbidden disgruntled thought that comes with being unnoticeable in that regard when he has that quality of equipment, shiro starts fumbling through an answer before even thinking. ]
I feel fine right now. [ it’s meant to put his mind at ease, but with his voice coming out a touch higher, the truthfulness of those words becomes a bit lost. backtracking before being called out on it, he amends: ] Actually, no… my body…
[ is he about to talk about his disease? is he going to admit he’s colder than he’s let on? no, nothing like that. ]
It might start reacting if you stay as you are. You’re up against, uh… [ idiot that he is, the need to fidget overrides his command to lie still and so, his hips move just so, causing another brush. oh fuck. his mouth flops once, twice, and then he drags his voice out of its hiding spot. ] That’s my dick.
no subject
Ahh...
[ part confused, part alarmed, keith's grip tightens on shiro's hips before common sense knocks the wind out of him and his hand shoots up like he's grabbed a fistful of fire. ]
I - I thought this was okay?
[ the fact that he's even having to ask the question is, in retrospect, a clear indication that this isn't okay at all. but unsure of how to proceed, keith awkwardly keeps his hand suspended, while the rest of him stays in place like he's desperately holding on to the possibility that this isn't some unforgivable faux pas. ]
what is happening
no. he is not interested. not in the slightest.
his dick is going rogue, though. disconnected from his brain – and all the reasons as to why it shouldn’t wake up – his nether regions are playing at a different tune, one that involves a breathy moan that sounds sinful and wanting and far too attractive. ]
It’s – fine. [ it’s not, but shiro is lacking the capacity to formulate a response beyond the knee-jerk reassurance that is practically second-nature to him. ] You’re not doing anything wrong.
[ what the fuck is he even saying?? overriding this unhelpful need to chase away keith’s insecurities, shiro takes keith’s retracted grip as the building block to a solution. ]
But maybe you should turn around, otherwise I might…
[ twitch? harden? no, he’s not saying that. just thinking it has his face blooming with a scandalized blush. nice to know he isn’t so frozen that he can’t get the blood flowing, though, huh? ]
It’s not like I can control it when there’s a…
[ cute… boy…? a nice dick nestled against him…? no, he can’t say that, either. well, he has to say something, which inevitably leads him backtracking somewhere closer to the first. ]
It’s been a long time, Keith. [ breathe and just say it. for better or worse, it comes out in a deadpan. ] I’m gonna get hard if you don’t turn around.
help /o\
it's just -- in hindsight, he has no idea why the hell he decided the intimacy of the situation is irrelevant. obviously, friends don't routinely share a blanket while naked. obviously, dick to dick contact is weird even if the touching has nothing to do with sex or intimacy. hell, it doesn't matter that keith has never felt less sexy in his whole life, some things are just going to be awkward no matter what the context.
shiro doesn't go so far as to chastise, but keith shrinks, avoiding eye contact as he rolls over without daring to say a word. what's his excuse here? ha ha, sorry i forgot boners are a thing? fuck. as indifferent to sexuality as keith is, it's not like he has zero awareness.
but perhaps, deep down, the biggest factor in this latest stupidity has a whole lot more to do with something far simpler.. not wanting to die in awkward silence, keith mumbles: ]
...I didn't think.[ a beat, then keith forces more words out of his mouth if only because as a standalone the explanation sounds abysmally stupid. ] ... figured because it's me, it wouldn't...?
it's too late for that
keith is skinny like a rail. aside from some trim muscle, there isn’t much of any mass to his figure. how does he have an ass on him? does every ounce of fat on his body go directly to his ass?
why is he debating this?
… figured because it’s me, it wouldn’t…?
right. because they’re friends and friends don’t pop boners around each other, especially in high-stress, near death experiences. arm still around keith, only because he’d been too dumbstruck with his own body to operate it by retracting his touch, shiro does make a conscious effort to hitch backwards at the pelvis, making sure his cock has no direct contact with keith’s very round, very cushioned –
stop it. his voice comes out strained again, higher pitched with anxiety. ]
It’s been a long time. [ he already said that. that’s about his only defense, though. well, that and – ] And you’re… attractive…?
[ wait. maybe he should have cut his losses and stopped in the useless plight to defend himself. exhaling heavily, he tilts his head and shifts his gaze to the side, looking somewhere closer to the ceiling. ]
I’m sorry. I’m being gross. You almost died and now I’m making it sound like I’m hitting on you.
i am just going to keep my eyes closed
but evidently, it isn't just keith who feels the need to explain himself, shiro does too.
it's been a long time. shiro has been saying that a lot, but largely caught up in his own head, the puzzle pieces don't quite fall into place until after that second part. and you're attractive...? the questioning tone does more to convince keith of shir's confusion than his apparent attractiveness, but the sentiment still leaves him mentally reeling.
it's been a long time ... not just since shiro was able to care about someone else, but also since he had someone to be intimate with, right? or at least, a long time since shiro had someone like adam in his life -- a person to come home to, hold and...
a squirmy, wriggly feeling in his belly interrupts the thought, and keith gives himself a vigorous mental shake. it's weird to be imagining his best friend being that way with another guy. more relevantly, shiro is lonely. as much as keith wants to relate, it's hard to know what missing a relationship like that must be like when he's never had a connection on that level.
hell. if the mere premise that shiro can look at him and think "attractive" is unbelievable, just how stunted is he? a laugh threatens to bubble out of him, though keith couldn't even say why. is it normal to go through a near-death experience and come out wondering what being with someone could be like?
feeling more delirious by the second, keith gives into that urge to laugh, though it comes out more like a quiet huff. ]
I know you're not hitting on me. We're like brothers and all. [ a beat. ] ... I guess I just didn't know you felt lonely. I mean, I know you miss home and all the people you haven't seen in ages, but... in terms of boyfriends and stuff.
that won't save you... it never does
we’re like brothers and all.
that shouldn’t bother him. in any other situation, he would melt with gratitude for being seen as such. whether this is his keith or not, the value of their friendship is beyond measure. brothers is more than he can hope for at this point. that’s family. that’s far closer to forever and no matter what; the kind of bond that shiro’s turmoil rattled existence needs. but when there’s skin on skin and a twitch in his half-hardened cock, tempted by smooth, rounded curves a mere hip tilt away…? turns out mortification works well on putting a stop to an inopportune boner.
bitterness doesn’t suit shiro. he tries not to swell with it, but between the cold, panic and exhaustion of the day, he’s near the end of his ever-patient rope. so the words aren’t tailored with their usual carefulness. shiro falls to his own shortcomings, his shame making him lose his composure with a clipped tone that does little to hide the underlying annoyance. ]
I don’t miss having a boyfriend.
[ thinking of boyfriends inevitably leads back to adam, which acts as kerosene on his already agitated irritation toward his failures. self-awareness broadens and he does catch himself, dialing back the bite to his voice by sighing heavily. next, he simply sounds sour, near grumbling. ]
I wouldn’t be the right fit for anyone anymore, anyway. We’re here trying to generate warmth and it’s the most pleasant, physical interaction I’ve had in ages, so my body reacts. It’s pathetic of me. [ a beat; no, not quite accurate. it’s better said: ] I’m pathetic.
SHHH
(no subject)
omg you actually did shush LOL
YOU TOLD ME TO???
I SUPPOSE, but ... /uhshushes
/insert yelling now that i am unshushed
(no subject)
*I* on the other hand, did not tell you to shush AND YET
... i always forget about subject lines