methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
Entry tags:
December 2023 Test Drive Meme
DECEMBER 2023 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A new group of arrivals 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 — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.
PROMPT TWO — MISTY FALLS CAVE: The Interlopers go out in search of a hidden cave in the mountains found by Methuselah, which may still contain the hidden stash of a doomsday prepper. However, they get a little more than they bargained for when they venture inside.
PROMPT THREE — SERPENT'S BREATH: Interlopers investigate the mysterious cause of whatever is killing and poisoning the wildlife and vegetation of the area — and discover a supernatural creature is behind it.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-Decmber.
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 a long time. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are pretty 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.
It’s possible you may come across someone here. Another fellow Interloper, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilisation…?
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. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People. In The town!
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, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people.
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail 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.
“Ah, even more, still. Just as I thought.” he muses. “I wonder if this is perhaps the new status quo. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. They bring more of you every so often. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”
The room is dim, lit only by 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. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.
There are canisters with hot herbal teas and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus grilled fish. There's also things like instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast, although newcomers will note from others who have been here some time that this particular feast is less bountiful this time.
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.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the time and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
However, he will speak of something important, and will gladly share with others: “I have been looking for something for you all. There was once a townsfolk I knew of: Matthew. A suspicious, paranoid old miner who was interested in Prepping. He often spoke of the world coming to an end and strived to survive it. He often spoke of a cache hidden in the mountains, where he collected things of value. I have found the place, a hidden cave, but I am unable to get through, myself.”
… Well, he is an old man, after all.
“There are signs outside, so it is promising it is still intact. Perhaps the cache is still there. It might provide something useful for your growing numbers.”
MISTY FALLS CAVE
WHEN: Mid-month, onwards.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: booby traps; claustrophobic situations; potential injury/maiming; potential hyperthermic situations; exploration horror;
Methuselah gives directions to those willing to check out the lead for the old prepper cache. Following the river up from Milton Basin will lead to rugged, difficult pathways up towards Misty Falls — a waterfall, the river source itself. Most of the river is completely frozen with the freezing temperatures, but it is not completely so the closer to the source you go. Misty Falls is certainly idyllic, or it would be perhaps on a fine summer’s day — good for a nice hike. But the place looks desolate in the eternal winter cursing the Northern Territories.
The half-frozen waterfall is a din of sound, but the water itself is incredibly fresh and cooling for those hot and tired from the hike up. Those paying attention might notice a small space between the water and rock, big enough to squeeze through to get behind the waterfall itself. In the small space, the entrance to a small cave can be found. There are faded handmade signs, all in the same hand, reading ‘DANGER KEEP OUT’ and it isn’t too far of a stretch to wonder if perhaps this might be the secret stash of the old miner that Methuselah spoke of.
Venturing into the cave will not be an easy task. It seems the old miner was keen to keep any trespassers out, and most of this comes down to the cave itself. The walls of the cave quickly narrow, with only enough space to walk in single file. Jutting stone will easily make those stumble and trip. Occasionally the cave’s passage becomes narrower, meaning one might have to stoop or even crawl to carry on through. Here and there, the uneven floor dips, and your feet will find themselves in shin-deep frigid water. It’s slow-going, even if the actual passage itself isn’t incredibly long.
But perhaps the worst of all is the pressing darkness. A darkness so black even with lanterns switched off, one’s eyes cannot adjust to it. It is smothering, pressing. The air is stale and damp, you feel small — and the cave itself still presses in on you. The miner also kept a few tricks up his sleeve in order to keep out intruders. There are dead-ends, making it easy to get lost. Trip wires are hidden in the darkness, causing small man-made cave-ins to fall upon unsuspecting heads.
It might be safer, saner to give up and turn back. But persevering will see the cave opening up once more, this time widening into a room. The place is fashioned into some crude shelter. There is furniture, lanterns to be lit.
With more light, the miner’s stash is revealed: the painstaking, time-costing work of a paranoid old recluse. Crates of non-perishable foods, MREs, and bottled water. Medicines and basic medical supplies, flares and tools.
A perfect supply of survival goods, ripe for the taking.
SERPENT'S BREATH
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of dead animals; malevolent creature; snakes/serpents; poison/airborne toxins; potential poisonings; potential burn injuries; potential (temporary) blinding.
It’s noticed in different ways: perhaps a trail of dead animals stands before you, each one with no particular injury other than what appears to be burned hides and flesh — it is as if the wildlife simply dropped dead, for the most part. Perhaps you notice huge, tunnel-like grooves in the deepest parts of the snow, a few feet in width — as if something long and thick had made its way through to clear a path. More worryingly for some, they might notice trails of rot: destroyed trees, decaying plant life, as if the very earth itself has been scorched in the wake of something passing through, leaving nothing but destruction and devastation.
Something is destroying the flora and fauna of the world. There seems to be no pattern, simply the random trails all over the place. There appears to be no other tracks, other than the long, smooth tunnel-like pathways. Whatever it is, it must be stopped. Resources are so precious in this world, if the beast is allowed to continue then all who live here will soon starve due to lack of animals to hunt and plants to gather.
Following the tunnels is a sure-way to hunt the beast down, although these paths will lead far from town. It is best to go prepared. But soon enough, you may come across the slumbering beast, curled up on the snow or coiled underneath some jutting space of stone along the mountains. You’ll hear and smell it before you see it: the long grumbling snores as it sleeps, and the putrid stench of rot. Everything in you tells you to flee, much like when an animal senses something toxic, or poisoning.
You press on, finally stumbling across the beast: a long, serpent-like dragon, with tremendous horns and fangs, coloured with muted grey scales and huge, glowing, flamed eyes.
The element of surprise will work in your favour to try and kill the beast, but it will give up a good fight. It will take several rounds of fights with it before it will finally be taken down permanently. It moves quickly, with scales like steel. Its eyes and mouth are its weakest spots, as is the soft underbelly of its body — fire will work well on harming this beast, especially with a well aimed shot into its mouth.
Its open mouth is where it holds its most powerful weapon. Not the fangs, no. The very reason why the air smells of rot, why the wildlife lay dead, why the earth decays at your feet: its breath. The beast’s breath is highly toxic, it will burn the skin of those it comes into contact with. Breathing in the fumes will poison those who breathe it in, and will cause a weakening, sickly illness. The breath may even temporarily blind.
These injuries are not fatal, and will heal with time and the basic medical attention available in the world. Victims will require rest for at least a week, depending on how severe the blast of the serpent’s breath. But killing the best will ensure its havoc is brought to an end.
FAQs
1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.
5. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. Tools found would be basic survival/camping tools one might expect: knives, hand axes, rope, handsaws, torches, batteries, etc.
1. The Stoor Worm, or Mester Stoor Worm, was a gigantic evil sea serpent of Orcadian folklore, capable of contaminating plants and destroying animals and humans with its putrid breath. Assipattle, the youngest son of a local farmer, defeated the creature by flinging still-burning peat into its mouth. As it died its teeth fell out to become the islands of Orkney, Shetland and the Faroes, and its body became Iceland.
2. It is possible the harvest the beast once it is killed, particularly for its fangs and skin. The skin/scales will provide ample protection to try to use it for armouring themselves. The fangs would provide useful for crafting knives or weapons.
3. It is... technically possible to eat the meat of the beast. Care should be taken in butchering, however. And it is not advised to eat the head.
no subject
Anti-emetics, [ he intones quietly, although he does hear what he's saying about its intelligence, and there's recognition in his eyes, clear indication that he's listening. There's just little else he can do but listen. ] They probably gave you medication to stop the vomiting. I can at least... maybe find something like that, at the old pharmacy. Have you been throwing up more now? Without it?
no subject
[ A thoughtful nod; it makes sense, in that case. And it's really fortunate that of all the people to stumble across him out there in the snow, it was someone with knowledge of such things.
A pause, as he realises there's... something else. Something very important he should divulge. ]
...It's... connected to me, Comrade. Bonded. When it hurts... I hurt. I think it may still be wounded. Weak. Maybe that's part of why I'm so sick now.
no subject
Maybe. You have lost a lot of blood, Comrade. Even if the creature is okay, you will need time to recover. You are very anemic right now. ...I am going to get my kit.
[ He finds himself reluctant to even leave the room, but he does, stepping onto the cold creaking floorboards of the living room to unzip his kit bag and retrieve his stethoscope. He drapes it over the back of his neck, wrapping his hand around the bell to warm it on the short walk back to the bedroom. ]
Do you mind...
[ He's never felt awkward asking a patient to undress before, even though, in this case, it's only pushing his tee shirt up to the bottom of his pronounced pectorals. This is new, and he hopes that Konstantin's lack of reference for what is normal from Vasiliy Yegorovich, EMT, will be enough to allow it to slide past without notice. ]
no subject
Strange to think that hardly any time has passed since he first met this man — it was only yesterday evening that Vasiliy was lugging him in to place on the sofa. He'd examined him then, too, but so briefly — and the creature had been very still, unmoving. Perhaps in shock or perhaps too weak or frightened to do anything, not wanting to make its presence known. But now.... clearly, it's been active, and he doesn't know how it may react to the other man's touch this time.
He sits there in his thoughts in the short amount of time it takes Vasiliy to return, and then he's nodding again, though it's with a new wave of tension, muscles stiff as he eases himself back to lie against the bed, slowly coaxing his shirt up to expose his abdomen. His dark eyes roll up to catch Vasiliy's for a moment, holding onto them. ]
If it.... begins to agitate, it could try to come out again. I don't know.
[ He doesn't know that the creature has already decided it has little desire to exit his body again unless it has to, so averse to this strange, new, painfully cold environment. ]
When it does, it sends me into seizure. Knocks me out. If that starts happening.... Comrade, you need to run. Lock me in here. It can't open doors.
no subject
I will. ...I want to see if I can feel where it is right now. If it moves, you could be in danger of a bowel obstruction.
[ A beat. They're the standard reassurances he'd offer any patient, but they feel particularly important right now. A man has no autonomy, none, when he is property of the state. He's lived it himself. ] I will be gentle. If you say to stop, I will stop. Tell me if it hurts.
no subject
But now... if he's going to find a way to rescue his son again (and this time as a free man), then he has to survive. He's alive, and out of the military's hands. The creature won't be their weapon. He can live. It's good to be properly checked out by someone like this, despite how anxious it makes him.
He's staring up at Vasiliy as he speaks, and something in his eyes softens at those words. Not a command, not a demand, but a request and an assurance. To put this in his control; it can stop if he needs it to. It means a lot. It means everything. ]
All right. [ A brief pause, and then— ] Thank you.
no subject
[ It's easy enough to lose himself in what he's doing and slide back into a working rhythm when he's keeping his eyes lowered to the level of the man's abdomen, when his face isn't in view. He looks like any other patient, more-or-less—more fit than most of his American ones, certainly, but much more unremarkable than his face, which remains arresting.
Things sound normal, still—a relief. He realizes only once he hears the expected backdrop of quiet grumbles that he'd been afraid he'd hold the diaphragm to his skin and hear nothing but silence. It's not blocking anything. The cosmonaut lives another day.
He's careful as he proceeds to auscultate—no abnormal findings—and then palpate, gentle and shallow at first, testing before he deepens the touch. He starts in the lower quadrants, and this time, he knows what he's feeling for: some kind of organic mass. There's nothing, thankfully—no dramatic relocation. He looks up, briefly makes eye contact. ]
I'm going to feel your stomach now. I just want to see if it's still there.
[ And then, tentatively, he presses the pads of his fingers into his skin, just barely, edging around where the bottom of the creature should be according to the radiograph. ]
no subject
This time... he knows the examination will be more thorough. He'll make it last long enough that it can be. So he gives one final nod and then takes a slow, deep breath, going still against the bed beneath him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
It's easy, at first, even if his nerves prickle at the edges of himself, making his muscles tight and his breathing a little shallow. He remembers his training, tries to steel himself, but he's still feeling ill and exhausted and it's difficult. Still, he manages to relax his breathing through it, and then Vasiliy's saying he'll feel his stomach and the cosmonaut is taking another purposeful inhale and exhale. It helps that the EMT keeps talking to him, letting him know what's about to happen. The facility scientists had rarely let him be a part of the processes, simply told him they were running tests to check his vitals and make sure he was healing, but no one ever hesitated. Waited to make sure he was all right first.
The fingertips against his belly are soft and gentle and warm. This time, Konstantin lets them stay, even when he feels a hitch of pain; his stomach's so sore, so tired.
And this time, the creature doesn't stay frozen in place. When those fingers brush the bottom of its position, it moves, because it knows Vasiliy's voice now, and knows exactly whose hands are touching it, even if so carefully. It shudders inside of him and shifts, trying to move away from the fingerpads of the stranger that smells neither alive nor dead — it's only just recently learned what human beings are, and this one... doesn't fit into the same mold. It can't make sense of him.
Konstantin gasps softly as he feels it squirm like that, eyes dropping down from the ceiling and to Vasiliy. He isn't certain if the EMT could detect it just yet, but this is a mutual exchange between the two of them, keeping one another in the loop about what's happening, and so— ]
Did you feel it move?
no subject
It's not that he didn't believe the man before—this has all been very sobering—but to reach out and feel an alien move against his hand, undeniable, tangible evidence of its existence within its host, interacting with him: it's something else entirely. This feels like a dream, almost. From meeting a cosmonaut and a Hero of the Soviet Union, to learning that life outside of earth is real, to learning that that life is multicellular and profoundly complex. To then touch it, an extraterrestrial creature.
It takes the breath out of him for a moment, and then he looks up. ]
I did. I felt it move.
no subject
But here... it's the first time that someone has made contact with it when it's still inside of him, in this more larval state. It's.... strange, feels a little surreal for him, too. It might almost be humourous, to think of this alien entity that he knows is capable of such horror, shirking from a gentle EMT's touch. But he can only wince a bit as he feels it try to nudge deeper into the core of him, shifting itself. It seems to coil up, tail slithering across the wall of his stomach and tucking inwards; he can feel it tighten itself as though protectively curling up, making itself smaller, offering less of itself. ]
I think it's afraid — trying to hide.
[ Konstantin breathes out the report, and slowly tries to sit up on his elbows just a little, moving very carefully so that he barely has to bend his torso, putting all of his weight onto his arms. He stares down at himself for a long moment before looking back up to the other man, brow knitting in visible concern as he checks on him. ]
Are you all right? I know this is... [ A lot. So much. ] ...it all seems crazy.
no subject
It's not the first time things have been afraid of him, even if they were traditionally human. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, on his side.
But it's irrational, and he pushes it from his mind. ]
I'm fine, [ he says, quietly, briefly looking up to make eye contact as he continues to gently trace the outline of the mass with his fingertips, his touch even lighter now, trying to avoid agitating it further. ] Are you? Is this uncomfortable?
no subject
But that it could be worth her life...? Just as Vasiliy is helping him now, potentially at the risk of his own...? Is he really all right? Konstantin eyes him worriedly, but relaxes his muscles again when the man resumes his touch, even more lightly than before. The creature doesn't squirm away again, for the moment, just stays huddled in itself. ]
It's... [ He tries to find the words. He isn't used to admitting weaknesses; it feels strange in the back of his throat, like something he should swallow back. But again is the thought that he needs to be honest if he is going to allow this man to house him. If Vasiliy is going to do all of this for him.... ]
...Uncomfortable, yes. It hurts a bit. I can handle it, though. You can keep going, it's all right.
They didn't do things like this, at the facility. They barely put their hands directly on me. Mostly I was hooked to machines when they did their tests. [ He offers a faint smile. ]
no subject
They probably didn't want you to know. Or didn't know how it would react.
[ It's the first time he's alluded to any real... knowledge of the inner workings of the Soviet state; it's something he figures a man born in 1985 would still have some knowledge of, the deception woven into the fabric of it like mortar in a brick wall.
He wishes he wouldn't have to, at some point, claim that the majority of his memorable life hadn't happened in their shared country. It feels like some cruel joke of the universe that he's finally been presented with someone who understands the world he came from only to be unable to admit to coming from it himself. ]
no subject
They were certainly very secretive. [ Said knowingly; like Vasiliy alludes to, such treatment is no surprise, and certainly Konstantin of all people knew that. But... being on this end of it was (and still is) something of a shock. He was a model citizen. A model figure for others to look up to. ]
They were never going to let me go, [ he adds, quietly. Perhaps something too bold that most would shirk from speaking about so directly, but Konstantin doesn't mind being bold. He'd given them a little bit of hell, in his own ways, challenging them at times when he shouldn't have — never too much, always returning to playing the part of the well-mannered patient in the end. ]
If this truly is somehow the future... I don't know whether they can find me here again. I don't know if they think I'm dead. But if not, they'll be looking for me. They'll do anything to get me back.
no subject
If they come here they will have no power. No Central Committee, no KGB, no Army. They will be ordinary citizens.
Konstantin: Don't worry, I'll leave in a few days | 5 months later:
(....But then, abruptly, a paradoxical little flicker of discomfort in the same beat. A fear that slowly uncovers the more he's able to think clearly, not currently so addled by sickness and the human need to be close to a human being, to trust them.
What if Vasiliy Yegorovich Ardankin works for them? Is reporting things back? Is staged to find him, recover him, nurse him back to health, stop him from doing something stupid, like try to kill himself again? What if as soon as the creature's capable once more, Vasiliy turns him in?)
He doesn't want to think that of this person who has helped him, given him refuge.... looked at him with something good, not fear or horror or suspicion. But Konstantin knows it could be an option, and he's quiet for a long moment, not wanting to betray any of his internal unease. He'll keep it to himself for now; it's all he can do. He doesn't have any other options. ]
It could still put you in danger. For housing me.
[ ....Despite the option he's just thought of, there's still the other one, of course. The option that this man truly is just a victim of this bizarre situation, like he is, and truly is just trying to help him, selflessly. If Vasiliy gets involved.... it's undoubtedly dangerous for him one way or another. The cosmonaut's voice softens. ]
As soon as I'm capable, I'll let you be. I promise. I should be fine in a few days.
PICKING UP ON HIS COP VIBES LMAOOO
And, of course, the pragmatic concerns: this man needs to be monitored. Even in good health, even if it were just a plain worm, this would be a medically precarious situation. They can't operate on a blocked intestine or a ruptured stomach or esophagus here. ]
You don't need to worry.
[ He straightens up, removing his hands from the man's abdomen once he's content with his knowledge of exactly where and how large the creature is. ]
You need to be monitored, Comrade. Stay as long as you need. [ He does, at least, show the tiniest edge of his hand: ] It's been a very long time since I've spoken to anyone in my own language.
surely he's not sus!! not Vasiliy!!!
If he really is a prisoner of this impossible place like himself, then Vasiliy.... would be the odd man out, wouldn't he. Konstantin can't imagine there would be anyone around here that would speak Russian. Could it be possible that they're the only ones? If this town is as remote as he'd said, then... they might be.
It's an odd thought. He's watching the other man, grounded by this small but meaningful piece of personal information (because that's what it feels like), before he smiles again and breaks eye contact only so that he can adjust himself, roll his shirt back down, carefully. He can feel the creature still coiled tightly within him, a wet mass that shouldn't be there. It's a nauseating thought, one he tries not to dwell on as he slowly moves to sit up just a little bit more with a breathless exhale, tired, finally looking back up at Vasiliy. ]
Thank you, again. I don't know how I can ever repay you for this.
[ Although tired, he allows a certain warmth to seep into his words, an expression of gratitude. It shows in his eyes too, the dark browns warming to something softer. For now, all he can do is take up this offer, and... he finds that he wants to, despite any lingering anxieties. The thought of trying to manage himself, and his situation, while so ill.... it's a difficult one.
The thought of being alone is, too. ]
...It will have to come out and eat sometime, though. I... I don't know what to do. How to keep you safe with me. It has to eat blood. A hormone in blood.
....I can't stop it when it's hungry, Vasiliy. I'll be unconscious.
look at him! he looks so trustworthy (:
Maybe you can keep it from being hungry. If it can eat inside of you, you could drink the blood yourself. Then it wouldn't have a reason to leave.
[ He knows drinking blood isn't a pleasant thought, presumably least of all for someone whose stomach is already violently upset as it rebels against a large foreign body, but these are dire straits. They need to be realistic, and while he has the creeping, sinking feeling that he was never in any danger, the rest of the town very well might be. ]
If the thing leaves anything for you to digest, it will help your anemia.
cw: mention of animal death
It's all a horrifying idea, what Vasiliy is suggesting, but.... all of this is a horror, and it makes sense, doesn't it? It leaves him only to feed; there is no other reason. Even its exploration of the world is so limited. It isn't meant to exist for long outside of the dark, warm protection of his body. It can't even handle the sunlight.
If he could stop that process of it having any reason to exit him....
(Somewhere in him, he is still baffled by how calmly Vasiliy is speaking to him about any of this at all.) ]
...I could drink animal's blood. It has fed from them before.
[ ....There are parts to this he won't mention just yet. How it was intentionally fed humans. How he let that happen. ]
....Without human blood, it— ...we aren't as stabilised. My hormone levels.... but I don't care. [ He gives his head a soft shake. ] If it would accept animal blood that way, then I could try it.
no subject
It must stay within the confines of this cabin. ]
I can try to hunt something. There is small game here.
no subject
...And once again, what other choice does he have? He certainly can't find food for it on his own; he can barely stand. And it's so cold out there... Konstantin's quiet for a few long moments, worrying his bottom lip, before he's finally speaking again. ]
If you're sure, Comrade. I don't... I don't want anyone risking their life for mine.
[ Though Vasiliy has already done that, and continues to, doesn't he? It's such a strange concept. Tatiana had risked much for him as well. But this is.... a lot. More than anyone's ever done for him. More than he assuredly deserves. ]
...But if anything goes wrong... at any time... you can't hesitate. Okay? You have to do what it takes to be safe. Please.
[ Use the gun. Stop it — him — if he has to. ]
no subject
[ The words are quiet, muted in tone, but serious—it's something he's given thought to, weighed in his mind. It seems unlikely that it'll attack him, but what if it tries to escape the confines of the cabin? What if there comes a moment when he has to choose between the cosmonaut's life and the lives of the people in the village beyond this room?
Even the the thought alone triggers a twist of discomfort deep in his chest, a decided unease. Could he really make that decision, when the time comes? Could he really bring himself to kill the only link he has to his home, to his own culture—someone who has done so much for it? He should be able to. Any Communist should be able to make the correct decision in such a simple equation regarding the good of the collective. But for what feels like the first time in his life, the altruistic choice doesn't feel like the only answer he could even consider, and that's unsettling.
He tries to push the thoughts from his mind. ]
I'll make sure there's no way for it to get out of here while we're sleeping.
no subject
(Is it hope? Could he be so willing to chance that he could feel hope, again?)
It's.... something. It's assurance, and security. It's the fact that he isn't doing this all on his own; there is someone else with him to help him. And to help protect others from him. In a situation where he's so much more helpless than he was back in the facility, without access to proper medical care and a stabilised, controlled environment.... Vasiliy Ardankin may be the only hope he has. ]
Thank you. [ He says again, more softly this time. Having someone to watch out for things when he's asleep and truly at his most helpless in terms of handling the creature.... is a great deal.
Konstantin gives a long exhale of breath, shifting back to lean against his pillows, returning to the comfort they bring. It's been a long night, and a long morning. A little smile tugs at his mouth again. ]
Why don't you get some more rest? I know you must be tired, after all of this. I don't mind setting up camp on the sofa so you can have your bed back.
no subject
You're wounded. I wouldn't make you sleep on the couch. And you need to be supervised anyway.
[ He gets up, checking the latches on the window (locked, of course, everything here is always locked), firmly stuffing a towel under the bedroom door and turning the lock on the knob. That way, the thing in the x-ray won't be able to slide under the door, which he imagines it could do quite easily if it wanted to. He'll have to check the rest of the house for the same film it left on the comforter to see how far it went.
For right now, though, Konstantin's made him recognize that he's tired. He's not even hurt, but he's exhausted—it's been a lot, emotionally. He can't bring himself to leave the cosmonaut's side, at the very least, not when his condition is fragile—so he climbs back into bed to sit with his back against the headboard when he's done alien-proofing the small bedroom. ]
There. Now it can't get out of this room.
(no subject)
(no subject)