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singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-02-05 02:31 pm
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February 2024 Test Drive Meme
FEBRUARY 2024 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another 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 — OF FAIR FORTUNE: After spell of bad luck, finally, the Interlopers find A Very Good (albeit slightly spooky) Boy.
PROMPT THREE — BAD PICKINGS: An error is made when foraging for mushrooms that have been altered by the Aurora makes for some interesting situations for the Interlopers.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-month.
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 weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. 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. Interlopers who arrive during the month of February will find themselves especially likely of falling foul to accidental injuries and the like. It's as if the bad luck of finding yourself in this place only gets much worse. Maybe you get yourself horrendously more lost than you mean to, maybe you end up with a sprained wrist or ankle after a fall, torn clothing from fighting through the thicker parts of the wilderness.
But soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. 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.
Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, 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. Civilization...?
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 then 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. Several dozen at most, but no more. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.
There is a sombre mood to the town. Although you can't quite place why, maybe you should ask?
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a community hall, by the looks of it. 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, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“Another batch of poor souls from the wilds.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”
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, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's 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 laden 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 perhaps a rare canister of coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, 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 very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, his mood is... low, mournful. but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
This time, if he is approached, particularly by those who have been in Milton for some time, he will frown in thought. He is… considering something. Finally, he will speak:
“I had hoped that the secret cache I and your fellow Newcomers had found two months past would be enough until the spring comes.” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze moving to one of the many windows of the Community Hall. “If she ever arrives, that is.”
He doesn’t believe it will.
“More and more of you come. Life will continue to get harder with the numbers rising.” Methuselah explains. “Milton is but one town, and the way out to the south is blocked.”
He means the road out — the one that follows out of town, past the gas station and through the mountains. The tunneled road ends there, caved in with snow and stone. There is no way out that way. Methuselah is quiet for a few moments.
“... There must be another way out. For all of our sakes. It must be found."
OF FAIR FORTUNE
WHEN: The month of February.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts, Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: otherworldly animal;
The Interlopers have discovered that it is not best to trust the canines in this world. The wolves and volatile, aggressive — prone to attacking the town, people. There has even been an instance of a dog leading Interlopers off the beaten track some months ago, into trips and falls and all sorts of mischief. To come across any sort of dog these days would draw suspicion, perhaps even aggression from Interlopers.
And certainly, coming across this particular dog is enough to turn plenty around and start heading in the opposite direction.
There is something…. Otherworldly about this dog. In terms of breed, one might recognise it to look a great deal like an Old English Sheepdog — but far bigger and hardier. It almost looks as if moss and vines are matted in its long fur, which seems ridiculous — but it’s true enough. The dog does not bark, but instead will stop and look at you silently when you come across one another. If approached, it will not run off, but it does not want to be petted and prefers to keep a respectable distance between you and it.
Then, it will turn to look in one direction and begin heading that way. It looks as if it wants to take you somewhere, but it won’t run off for you to catch up. It keeps to your side, silent and steady as you head through the snow, the woods. Wherever you’re going, there seems to be no rush in getting there.
It’s a little unnerving: where did this dog come from? Why does it look so… strange? Where is it going? Where is it taking you? But even with these questions, it doesn’t seem like you’ll find much in terms of answers, not at first.
Soon enough, you’ll find it. It’s different for everyone, but it seems like it all has some recurring theme. Perhaps out in the cold wilds of the Northern Territories, you’re in desperate need of shelter or warmth — you and the dog will find yourselves facing an abandoned cabin, a place of safety from the cold, perhaps with warmer clothing within. Or perhaps the dog may lead you to some secret stash: a metal cache half-hidden in the snow, a small stone cairn — with vital loot hidden within: matches, flares, maybe even food. It may even lead you to foragable foods: mushrooms, berries or of the like — all safe to consume.
Whatever the strange dog leads you to, it is a fortune. A small one, but a fortune nonetheless. It seems as if it wanted to bring you to something to aid you in your time here. Upon finding whatever it is the dog leads you to, the dog disappears — never to be seen again.
BAD PICKINGS
WHEN: Mid-month onwards for a few weeks.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: altered food/foraged foods; drugs/hallucinogens / negative hallucinogenic trips; severely altered/warped moods; temporary amnesia; personality switches; loss of senses
The Northern Territories may be harsh, difficult conditions to survive in, but certainly not impossible. There is an abundance of wildlife, hardy enough to withstand the weather — even in the extreme, unpredictable times such as these. Foraging will soon come to be a staple for those stuck here in this world, and is just as important as hunting down any deer or rabbit. Flora is not only useful in terms of sustenance, but in its use in medicines and tinctures.
Mushrooms can be found here and there in particular areas: taking advantage of the wet, rotten wood of downed trees, or nestled in the sheltered undergrowth of the more densely wooded areas where it’s a little more suitable for fungi to grow. But not even the flora of this world is safe following the recent Auroras. The world is changing, and for the next few weeks — foraged mushrooms will have some… interesting effects, when consumed.
Interlopers that come across these mushrooms in the wilds will find themselves compelled to pick and eat these mushrooms right away. They're perfectly fine to eat raw, just more enjoyable to eat once cooked.
The effects of the mushrooms will last between eight hours to a full day, depending on how much was consumed. Nothing can be done to alleviate symptoms. You will feel incredibly hungover the day after the effects have subsided, and feel completely fine after that. The Aurora’s influence on mushrooms is only temporary, and the mushrooms will cease their effects after a few weeks.
Reishi mushrooms This mushroom will temporarily take away one of your five senses: sight, touch, smell, taste or hearing. You may find yourself feeling completely numb to touch; or unable to hear or see anything.
Oyster mushrooms Eating one of these mushrooms will give you temporary amnesia. You may forget yourself, things about your life, even your own name. Or maybe you will forget those around you. Or perhaps both.
Black Morel Eating this mushroom will seem to switch your personality to its complete opposite. Introverted sorts will become extroverted, those prone to anger will become more calm and chilled out, cheerful sorts will become more morose — and vice-versa.
Chanterelles Your mood is lifted and you become more cheerful and affectionate with those around you. You may even become more enamoured with the next person you happen to meet, regardless of your feelings towards them previously or your own orientation/attractions.
Amethyst Laccaria There is nothing supernatural or strange that happens when this mushroom is consumed. You just have a super bad hallucinogenic trip of your own horrible making. This mushroom is literally a nightmare. Sorry about that.
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. Please Do Not Pet That Dog.
1. Interlopers that pick a variety of the mushrooms and cook them together to eat will suffer the effects of whichever mushroom was in the largest quantity.
2. The mushrooms are fine to eat raw, and characters will feel compelled to eat them raw.
omg GIBSON ❤️ oh this definitely shan't be a bit awkward for them or anything, not at all 👀
Might he just be staring straight at another mirage, perhaps, some obscure trick of the snow and the light and the mind that has him now hallucinating things -- hallucinating entire people, even -- that can't possibly actually be there?
And would this even be of any relief to him, if so?
No, surely not; tempting as the thought may be to just cocoon himself deep within a thick shell of denial and blissful ignorance rather than try coping with and adapting to such increasingly unbelievable circumstances, there is certainly no comfort or dignity in driving himself to madness.
Yet, can the alternative really be that Irving is, in fact, currently looking at Billy Gibson himself right now, in the flesh and blood and bone? ]
Mister... Mr Gibson-- [ He finally manages to get the words out in a breathless rush, large pale eyes seeming to bulge out from his face with the force of his staring. ] Can it really be you?
[ Whether Irving is actually glad to see Gibson or not, however, is obviously immaterial; first things first. Best to keep facts before feelings in a crisis. ]
Where have you just come from?
absolutely! never been awkward for them! no gay thoughts here.. ever...
There is a town-- just a little bit further ahead. [ There's something awkward about the way he says it, though it could easily be interpreted as him not wanting to make Irving seem stupid for not having noticed. It's not like it's close enough from the outskirts to easily be spotted in full, after all, if you approached the outskirts from the woods.
.. though he also realises it's not really a full answer to what the other is asking, everything considered. It's not like either of them are meant to be here, after all.
(He wonders what a man like Irving is thinking about this entire situation. Is he assuming it's some divine thing? The hand of God?) ]
I.. was in the same position as you were just now, I presume. I woke up in the snow here a few months ago. [ The surprise mostly seems to have faded from Billy's face when he speaks those words - maybe his role as a steward has made it easier for him to slip into something a little less emotive, forcing all of it down in favour of a more neutral appearance.
He's sure the lieutenant will still have plenty of questions, but it's not like he doesn't have things he's wondering about himself. One thing, especially, that will determine so much about how awkward this entire situation is going to be.
Especially with the ring on his finger currently feeling like it's on fire with Irving's gaze aimed at him. Billy has never been more glad that he made sure to put on his gloves on before going out today, hiding it from view. ]
.. if I may ask, sir.. What is the last thing you remember?
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[ The news is far too good for Irving to even consider reading any subtext into Gibson's tone, because really, he'd not yet actually planned what he'd do next after warming up a bit inside the cabin. To explore the area and keep searching for a town, any sign of civilization, is easier said than done in inclement weather like this; without knowing what else is out there, or how far away, it could be a death sentence to go out wandering if the forecast happened to worsen.
However, if his eyes lit up at all hopefully from the mention of a town, that light very quickly fades when Gibson asks him what he remembers last. The last thing in the world Irving wants to do right now is even mention Hickey's name, let alone have to speak on the man or acknowledge his own fate. ]
Tell me more about this town, please-- how far from here would you say it is? And what of the people there? Will you take me?
[ Anything particularly awkward or "off" about Gibson's manner in his presence is currently beyond and below Irving's notice, but mainly because at the moment there are more important facts to establish, questions to ask. The elephant in the room between them probably can't go unmentioned forever, or even for very long, although truthfully, if Irving had his way, there'd be no need for him to ever have any more uncomfortable conversations in his life.
Next follows a pause. A few months, Gibson said. ]
I trust you've been... well, Mr Gibson? In that time?
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It doesn't seem like a good thing. Lieutenant Irving is such a straightforward man when it comes to many things that it's easy to narrow the thing he doesn't want to talk about to only a few specific things. Two things, really. Either the last thing he remembers is indeed his death, just like Billy himself, or the last thing he remembers is the particularly awkward encounter in the orlop.
Neither is great. It's part of why he doesn't push, aside from the fact that it still feels too awkward to push anything with the men he's been serving for so long, even if there are no more ranks in this place. It's just like how he feels whenever he faces Little here, really. It's so easy to fall back into specific patterns.
Patterns that - right now - involve him taking a few steps back so Irving has the space to get out of the cabin as well. ]
Of course I will take you. It's a very short walk-- Please follow me.
[ He'll wait for the other to join him outside first, and only then starts walking, instinctively adapting his pace to Irving's own, and turning his attention towards the man's other questions. ]
And I have been.. [ There's a slight pause, like there's just some difficulty in speaking of himself. Billy isn't very used to it, and even less so around the lieutenants. ] .. I have been relatively well here, I suppose.
[ As well as anyone can be under the circumstances there. Yet they're somehow still an improvement over everything back on the expedition. The skin around Billy's eyes is still left dark from the effects of scurvy, but the rest of his face has gained a bit more colour again. ]
.. but I did die before I found myself here, sir.
[ Apparently - if Irving won't address any elephants in the room - then the other man will be the one to do it. He's pretty sure Irving will hear about this from one of the others anyway, even if Billy doesn't tell him this. It might help him come to terms with his own situation, if the last thing he remembers is similar. ]
no subject
A perfectly effective strategy... well, a percentage of the time, but the numbers aren't what's important here.
Irving nods with a quick, curt efficiency before following Gibson out of the cabin, similarly allowing their old, familiar dynamic to settle over them once again comfortably-- or what he can tell himself is comfortable, at least, so long as they persist in the tense silence of all that remains unspoken. Because after all, isn't it really better off that way? Aren't they so much better off that way...? ]
Yes, you do... er, seem to look it, I think, [ he echoes awkwardly after another moment, giving Gibson a brief sweep of assessment with his eyes. ] Or well enough, anyway. I am glad fortunes are finding you in better health these days.
[ Irving tries to remember the last time he actually saw the man in person, let alone face-to-face, but his memory keeps drawing up short, the days and weeks of Terror Camp all blurring into one endless limbo of time. He does seem to recall Gibson looking rather hollow-eyed and gaunt as of late, though, not too unlike a wizened, mummified skull, so Irving's about as sincere as a man can be without being an actual doctor in his diagnosis of well enough, and glad for it; the (former) steward looks significantly more rested and fed than he'd probably been even before they abandoned the ships.
He expects now to simply follow behind Gibson in a relatively companionable silence, broken up with whatever is most important, informative, and urgent for Irving to know, but such was just not to meant to be, it seems-- Irving's head turns with a snap back towards Gibson, pale eyes wide like moons with alarm. ]
You...
[ Granted, it's not entirely the most shocking news, not when men had been dropping left and right like flies almost by the day, but ever since the incident with Hickey in the hold Irving has felt vaguely protective of Gibson in a strange, abstract sort of way, concerned for him but still being much too uncomfortable to involve himself directly again unless he absolutely had to.
When he speaks again his voice has gone more quiet now: solemn and subdued. ]
How did it happen, William?
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After all, he hadn't even talked to any of the lieutenants - despite the sheer amount of time they spent together due to the nature of his work - about the way his health was clearly deteriorating for a great deal of time, especially once they left the boats. There was nothing anyone could do about it anyway, and even then he wasn't sure whether any of them would even care. They had a lot more going on than the health of their steward at that point, after all.
Hence - the death talk. If he just talks about objective events, it's still miles away from any feelings, or vulnerability, or awkward care or the lack thereof.
Especially when he can be so short about his explanation here. ]
Mr. Hickey. [ He says, his voice soft, but audible to Irving, surely. Especially when the only other sound is the snow underneath their feet. His first instinct is to avoid the other's gaze, but something - habit, perhaps, or maybe instinctive politeness - slowly draws his gaze back instead, though still lowered.
Billy purposefully doesn't say more. He's learned that sometimes with Irving it's better to let the man fill in the gaps in whatever way he seems fit instead. Even more so when it seems that it's the two of them specifically that died by the same hand.
(He did wonder about it a few times after he found himself alive here again, when he could actually contemplate it. How different had it been for Irving? How much of it had been the same?) ]
no subject
(Though ironically, death almost seems the much kinder thing for Hickey to have put Gibson through in the end-- as if one single mercy could ever possibly atone for how Hickey had relished the man's suffering in extorting his weakness, before.)
All this and more flashes briefly across Irving's expression, for he's never harbored much capacity for wearing poker-faces; his emotions, sometimes even his thoughts, are commonly all too transparently reflected in his eyes. And what is there left to say? ]
I'm sorry, [ he says finally, softly, a flatness to his voice. Less an apology, more a commiseration, although: ] I-I'm sure that I... could have helped you, more. I should have, once I knew.
[ Should have done more about Hickey, certainly. Not that he could have likely done anything to stop Gibson's murder, though, because Irving feels reasonably sure that he must have been dead already when it happened; that, or there'd just been no time or opportunity to hear of it before his own end.
A rather cold comfort. ]
This is not Heaven. I don't know where we are.
no subject
The easiest thing, for now, is to just shove them aside. He can always think about it later.
Instead he just exhales a breath he didn't realise he was holding. ]
I don't think anyone here knows what is going on, sir. [ Maybe not the most reassuring thing to hear, especially when he has the knowledge and experience of months here on his side and doesn't seem to know much more than Irving-- but it's also the honest truth. Billy has heard plenty of speculation, and even some people who seem to know where they are geographically speaking and what year it is, but those things only make it all make even less sense. Why would a bunch of dead men be transported from the Arctic to some other place in the future and somehow be alive again - all at the same time?
There is no logical explanation for that sort of thing. ]
All we have been doing in town is.. trying to live, despite it all.
[ And indeed - the contours of said town are starting to come into view, now they're getting closer. There are clearly houses visible beyond the trees ahead of them. ]
.. you asked about the people here. [ He says, as if only recalling that now. ] There are about sixty or seventy people in town, if I had to put a number on it. Many of them seem to come from entirely different places and times than us.
[ Making the entire situation even more strange. Not Heaven indeed, he'll agree on that, but he also doesn't have a word for what this could be, then. All he can do is relay the facts of it to Irving, as ridiculous as they may be. ]
no subject
Such a vast, hopeless limbo of unknowing is its own kind of Hell, to Irving; a purgatory of the lost, and therefore damned, both the sinners and the sinless alike.
But no, there is really is no logical explanation for it, either-- somehow even the Tuunbaq feels more grounded in reality, a product of a sane and rational universe, than any of this could possibly. ]
Survival alone is hardly any trivial accomplishment, [ he offers, once he's found his voice again. ] Even if it doesn't feel like much.
[ The town comes into view slowly through brisk, windblown curtains of strained visibility, but the familiar shapes of buildings growing larger and more solid as the two men continue their steady approach onward does Irving's heart -- and his nerves -- quite a bit of good. His pale eyes scan forward, their color washed out to something beyond blue or green or even grey, but more like the snow reflected in them, as he takes in the scenery, before he then turns his gaze back on Gibson in confusion. ]
Say more of the people, Mr. Gibson. I'm not sure I understand.
no subject
It.. is as I said. [ He first states, though it doesn't sound like it's born out of annoyance as much as it sounds like he has to wreck his mind to try and find any other way to explain it that might make even the faintest bit of sense to Irving.
For a moment Billy just looks down at his boots as they sink into the layer of snow with each step. ]
Some of them come from our future. [ A slight pause, but then quickly added: ] Our distant future.
[ Just to show the sheer scale of it. These are not people drawn in from cultures or societies close to their own, most of the time. Which comes with some benefits, since he has definitely learned people are actually okay with men having sex with men in the future, but it's been baffling in even that way. ]
And yet others from places we could not even imagine. [ It would sound like a joke, were it not for the fact that his tone is so serious - or the fact he doesn't joke, especially not with the lieutenants. ] Some of them are not.. even human.
no subject
Indeed, some things are simply beyond human understanding entirely.
He lets out a breath, brow furrowed as he proceeds to shake his head. None of this makes sense, and in fact all seems to make increasingly less sense the more Gibson tries explaining it, yet what is there really for Irving to disbelieve? He'd not have necessarily put it past some of the Marines, or especially some of the able seaman, to try spinning him a flamboyant yarn just to have a laugh at his expense, but he's never known William Gibson to make up such boldly fantastical stories, the likes of which would be more rightfully suited to the tattered pages of a pulpy penny blood than any reputable news periodical.
Irving decides, for now, not to trouble his imagination any further with the implications of what "distant future" or "not even human" could possibly mean within a more rational context, let alone one so irrational as this. Best just to reach town first; the rest can wait.
Goodness knows it won't be going anywhere. ]
At ease, Mr. Gibson, [ he says finally, carefully, putting up a hand. ] I don't think any amount of explanation could make your account any clearer to me.
[ Which is not to suggest that what Gibson's telling him sounds outright mad; granted, Irving supposes he probably shouldn't be ruling out anything just yet, but Gibson strikes him as far more steady and lucid now than Irving's last seen in ages, and nothing he's said so far is any more unbelievable than what Irving can see, hear, and feel for himself. Unfortunately. ]
But tell me, please, has Mr. Hickey-- [ A beat, unsure of exactly what kind of question he's trying to ask. ] Is he still... dangerous, would you say?
no subject
Not that Billy doesn't logically understand why the man would, especially when he has no experience with this town and its strangeness yet - but it does remind him of the more irksome parts of his job, parts he hasn't had to think about for months now, ever since arriving here.
Of course he doesn't say anything about it though. He knows better. These are the sorts of things you keep to yourself, small frustrations you just put up with and bury inside your heart. Even if they are no longer on the ships or even on the expedition and even though there is no longer any rank between them, it's hard to break old habits. Billy politely swallows it down.
.. though the relief of not having to attempt to explain further is quickly shot down by what follows. In the light of Irving's next question, Billy finds himself almost longing to just continue to explain the impossibility of this place.
After all, what is he supposed to say to that question? Billy feels like he knows the answer likely better than anyone else here, including the others from the expedition, yet he also knows it's wrapped up in many complicated layers that he absolutely can't unravel in front of Irving of all people. ]
.. he has made no attempt to harm me here, if that is what you are asking. [ That's a safe angle to approach it from, he figures. Entirely factually true. ] Mr. Hickey seems to thankfully have adopted a policy now of not endangering others unless they endanger him first, from what I can see.
[ Granted, considering what happened to Irving back home, Billy isn't entirely sure whether that will count for him now he has arrived here - but, no matter how much it's going unsaid, Billy is very much planning on convincing Hickey to not do anything to the other man if he does turn out to want to do just that.
It's yet another thing Irving doesn't have to know though, and if Billy succeeds in his talk with Hickey, it'll just seem like his words that are spoken now are the direct truth anyway.
--He can't help but be a little curious though. And shifting the focus on Irving might take some of the heat off Billy himself here, not awkwardly having to talk around the fact he's very much sharing a house and a bed with the man they are currently discussing. ]
Are you worried that he might make another attempt on your life, sir..?
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It's not by any fault of Gibson's explanation itself, only the increasingly unbelievable circumstances they continue to find themselves in.
Irving's under no delusions that Gibson should outright relish his company either, besides— after all, he's never much known better how to truly connect with his crewmates as it is, never mind this man who Irving believes he has, perhaps, in someway failed, so it's no wonder why the mood should be tense and awkward, or in fact quite especially so.
He looks over to Gibson again and searches his face for honesty, pale eyes large and nearly colorless for how they're reflecting the expanse snow. Might Gibson be lying to protect Hickey, after all this time? Probably not, but Irving vows to remain on his guard nonetheless. ]
My concern would be more with how Mr. Hickey is choosing to define what qualifies as his endangerment, [ Because... well. He shan't elaborate. ] But I am glad to hear that you've managed to keep safe thus far of his usual machinations.
[ Gibson's question is far more complicated to respond to, however, and merits a long moment of silence, Irving's wind-chapped lips pursing with tension. ]
No, [ he responds finally, looking forward again. ] He's much too clever a man to assume he could get away with it twice, I'm sure. I can't say what even prompted him to assault me then, but it was certainly not endangerment.
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It's why Billy has thought about the last point the other brings up before, back once he learned that it had been Hickey all along who had killed Irving. Even with said fickleness, Billy doesn't believe Hickey would have randomly done it back there, not when there was so much on the line with the mutiny. Considering what Crozier had said about the seal meat and Irving getting fed, it's more likely that it had to do with that. That Irving staying alive would interfere with Hickey's own plans.
At least his own answer coming a little slow because of him considering so much here won't stand out, Billy figures, when Irving needs those moments to think too. It is a complicated subject, and even more so between the two of them specifically. ]
.. It is too easy for a person to disappear here.
[ Even in his usual relatively soft tone, it's easy for such a thing to sound.. ominous. Billy himself seems to realise as much too, since he opts to not leave it at just those words. It's not a threat, after all. It's a warning, evidenced by how demure he seems as he says it. Almost nervous.
It'd be a kindness, warning Irving that the danger is likely greater than the man imagines it to be - but it's not like Billy is really trying to preserve Irving's life as much as he's trying to keep a certain rat man out of trouble by doing something dumb like killing people here. It's a full time job. ]
Please keep that in mind.
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He directs his gaze sidelong once more, eyeing Gibson warily in his debate for how next to speak. ]
I've... said nothing, you know, [ he says at a lower, more discreet volume, as if there were anyone around to possibly overhear them even over the harsh blizzard winds. ] Not a word, not to anyone.
[ Not that Irving assumes Gibson is threatening him now, obviously, but he might at least be more inclined to inform Hickey of this fact sooner than Irving himself will likely ever be. ]
He has nothing to gain from... [ But he can't bring himself to say it. ] Surely you, at least, must know that, Mr. Gibson.
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It's not wrong. In fact, it's true in many more ways than the other man is imagining right now, he's sure. He knows he knows Hickey better than any other. No one has seen that man the way he has, especially now he's been living together with him in this place for months, spending even more time together than they had been able to back on the ship, or back when illness was eating away at his body far too rapidly.
But it's exactly this that makes him realise the difference between his own perception and Irving's own. Judging by his words, he still believes Hickey to be someone who would only do that sort of thing with reason -- and while that is not entirely untrue, Billy has definitely seen Hickey grab his knife to stab someone just because he got too angry at how annoying they were at least once. Even if there is reason, Billy knows the reason never has to be all that large, and there's no way Hickey wouldn't carry a grudge after everything with Irving.
Not that he'll go so far as to say that. Maybe it's actually better if Irving still carries an opinion of Hickey that seems - relatively speaking, anyway - better than most their crewmates here. The last thing Billy wants is for the powder keg to explode.
He's silent for a moment after Irving speaks, but then first starts with, kind of demurely-- ]
I-- [ ... ] I still greatly appreciate the discretion, sir. [ Mostly to reaffirm it's the sort of thing best kept silent. Yes, Billy has been open about his sexuality to some people here, but he's been so careful to do it in the sort of way that wouldn't pass the information on to any of his crewmates. Irving being here just makes him want to screw that lid on tighter. ]
That is.. exactly why I want to urge you to caution. [ Like it's an exchange. Like it's gratitude. Irving protected him from having his story - his lie - spread, so in return Billy is looking out for Irving in his own way with that advice. That shouldn't be too unbelievable, he hopes. ] I sincerely believe that it is likely nothing will happen.
[ If not just because he's going to hurry home after this just to make sure Hickey doesn't do something stupid-- ]
But-- still. One can never know for sure. [ Be cautious!! That's all he's trying to say here. Don't give Hickey the opportunity. Please. He can feel himself stressing out already. ] I would not wish to see something happen to you again, sir.
[ Which is said a little awkwardly - nothing too surprising, given that Billy has never been an emotions type of guy, especially around the lieutenants, and wouldn't know how to fully express this even if it was 100% sincere.
Still, it's not like there isn't some truth to it even now. For Billy to be able to just peacefully live here, he needs for there to not be any Hickey murder involved in said life. Even if Irving's very presence is threatening that peaceful life as well, it's still the lesser threat. It's one Billy hopes he can control. ]
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Gibson, surely, can be reasoned with, because Gibson has proven himself to Irving as nothing less than a reasonable, penitent man. To even think of what the man has been through makes Irving burn with shame on his behalf.
He nods once, curtly, lips pursed so tensely together that, if not for the faint flush to his cheeks, as well, they would seem the only spot of color in the whole of his pale, frigid face. ]
I can assure you, Mr. Gibson, that I have no intention of betraying your privacy, nor do I ever wish to find either you or myself once again at Mr. Hickey's mercy.
[ Irving is, of course, rather loathe to admit to Gibson that he had no intention of telling command regardless, either, even if Gibson's story did force him to at least seek out and speak to Hickey. ]
He clearly has none of that to spare, [ he adds, at length. ] So, please... I implore you to be careful.
[ Because if Hickey would be so inclined as to hold a grudge against Irving for being unfortunate enough to have witnessed their coupling, or for encouraging him to redeem himself, what might that say about how he's responded to Gibson clarifying to Irving what really happened between them? ]
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.. but there's something more to his words too. Something that sits uneasily inside of him. It's not even the first time he's had this sensation. There have been a few times where he looked back on his initial conversation with Irving, the one where he told that lie about Hickey, and couldn't help but think about how easily the man believed him. How easily he gave him clemency. It had been easy to uncharitably interpret it as Irving just being glad that he wouldn't have to discuss such matters with anyone else if he had such a convenient excuse to keep it to himself, but it stands out a little more again in the light of this. In the way Irving includes him here - either you or myself - or the way he asks him to be careful. Like it matters.
It's the same feeling as when he first showed up here. When Lieutenant Little found him, wrapped him in his coat, and immediately gave him food. When the other spoke to him kindly, even when Billy confessed to his own role in the mutiny. It feels.. uneasy. He doesn't know what to do with it. It had been so easy to assume that the lieutenants just didn't care, and the signs that maybe - to varying levels - they did is-- It's complicated. Especially in the light of everything Billy did to distance himself. Always acting professional, withdrawn. Not even talking to any of them about it when he rapidly started to grow ill. He doesn't want to think of the implications of him always going to such great lengths to rely on just himself when maybe he could have asked for help all along.
He quickly tucks the feeling down, out of the way, as he always does. This isn't the time to examine it. He'd love to never examine it, actually. It can just sit uneasily somewhere in the pit of his stomach for the rest of time. ]
Thank you for your consideration. [ It's the same as always, with that feeling out of the way. Polite. A little withdrawn. Less awkward than he sounded a moment ago, instead more professional again in Billy's own quiet way. ] But-- I am sure it will be alright. I have been here for several months now and I have managed to navigate the situation well enough.
[ .. by which he hopes Irving will assume he means 'manage to stay out of Hickey's way', of course. The more assured the other is of this situation, the less chance Irving might attempt to seek either him or Hickey out and come across anything he shouldn't see once more. ]
You should instead focus on settling in, sir. ... It seems like we might be here for quite some time.