Heartman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
20likes) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-01-02 09:56 am
20likes) wrote in singillatim2024-01-02 09:56 am
See the sun set;
Character Name: Heartman + you
Who: TDM continuation + a few open prompts re: prelude
What: The prelude dream doesn't bode well for someone like Heartman
When: Night of Jan 1st
Where: Community hall, Outside
Content Warnings: TBD, will update as needed
i. The Dream;
Heartman's a very light sleeper. Doing everything in 20 minute cycles means his body's circadian rhythm is severely off, if nonexistent at this point. There's no Beach to go to, no wandering black sand and smelling the salt and decomposing fish, following familiar footsteps until he tires himself out. It's just him.
When he does sleep, his dreams are never. It's usually the same dream, one Heartman stopped dreading once he knew the scientific reason but still finds deeply unpleasant. He should be glad--is glad--that he only suffers a mild case of DOOMS. He lacks the homicidal tendencies for one, the suicidal behaviour is thankfully non existent. The dreams, though. The nightmares are relentless, sharp and vivid but never in colour.
This dream is not the same.
Heartman wakes with a gasp in the community hall, hand flying to his chest out of habit--no, his heart is fine, it's still fine here--and knocking the sleeping person next to him in his hurried attempt to rise. His brow furrows, determined, panting from the adrenaline as he scrambles up and shoots to the closest scrap of paper on a table, knocking over a chair in his haste to reach for his glasses at the same time.
"It's different--" His lips frown deeply, immediately twitch into a half smile in a temporary moment of sheer scientific excitement, and his face eventually settles on a very stern sort of look, lips parted as he scribbles madly.
"This... is... different."
ii. Outside;
He can't go back to sleep. Time seems to stretch on here, elongated and like a giraffe neck in comparison to the nice, neat, short and compartmentalized moments he's so used to. He's left rudderless, aimless without his research, and while he's already started to shift his work to solving this puzzle and trying not to focus too much on the one back home in order to retain his sanity here, it's difficult.
This dream, the wolves and the voice, even the word interloper is both a blessing and a curse. Heartman decides to go for a walk, bundling up as tightly as possible and throwing a blanket around his shoulders for good measure. The air is crisp, reminiscent of the mountain air swirling around his lab, but it has far more of a bite. Temperature, perhaps. Or the sense of foreboding that new dream has weighted him down with has clouded his judgement.
If someone else is taking a night walk, Heartman will politely raise his hand in greeting, sticking to the town itself and never straying too far from the community hall.
He does nip out a second time, this time to watch the sun rise, bundled just as tightly. For all of the unanswered questions he has, Heartman still has time to enjoy the natural beauty of it all. There's no Timefall to worry about. Just sheer, natural beauty.
Who: TDM continuation + a few open prompts re: prelude
What: The prelude dream doesn't bode well for someone like Heartman
When: Night of Jan 1st
Where: Community hall, Outside
Content Warnings: TBD, will update as needed
i. The Dream;
Heartman's a very light sleeper. Doing everything in 20 minute cycles means his body's circadian rhythm is severely off, if nonexistent at this point. There's no Beach to go to, no wandering black sand and smelling the salt and decomposing fish, following familiar footsteps until he tires himself out. It's just him.
When he does sleep, his dreams are never. It's usually the same dream, one Heartman stopped dreading once he knew the scientific reason but still finds deeply unpleasant. He should be glad--is glad--that he only suffers a mild case of DOOMS. He lacks the homicidal tendencies for one, the suicidal behaviour is thankfully non existent. The dreams, though. The nightmares are relentless, sharp and vivid but never in colour.
This dream is not the same.
Heartman wakes with a gasp in the community hall, hand flying to his chest out of habit--no, his heart is fine, it's still fine here--and knocking the sleeping person next to him in his hurried attempt to rise. His brow furrows, determined, panting from the adrenaline as he scrambles up and shoots to the closest scrap of paper on a table, knocking over a chair in his haste to reach for his glasses at the same time.
"It's different--" His lips frown deeply, immediately twitch into a half smile in a temporary moment of sheer scientific excitement, and his face eventually settles on a very stern sort of look, lips parted as he scribbles madly.
"This... is... different."
ii. Outside;
He can't go back to sleep. Time seems to stretch on here, elongated and like a giraffe neck in comparison to the nice, neat, short and compartmentalized moments he's so used to. He's left rudderless, aimless without his research, and while he's already started to shift his work to solving this puzzle and trying not to focus too much on the one back home in order to retain his sanity here, it's difficult.
This dream, the wolves and the voice, even the word interloper is both a blessing and a curse. Heartman decides to go for a walk, bundling up as tightly as possible and throwing a blanket around his shoulders for good measure. The air is crisp, reminiscent of the mountain air swirling around his lab, but it has far more of a bite. Temperature, perhaps. Or the sense of foreboding that new dream has weighted him down with has clouded his judgement.
If someone else is taking a night walk, Heartman will politely raise his hand in greeting, sticking to the town itself and never straying too far from the community hall.
He does nip out a second time, this time to watch the sun rise, bundled just as tightly. For all of the unanswered questions he has, Heartman still has time to enjoy the natural beauty of it all. There's no Timefall to worry about. Just sheer, natural beauty.
no subject
"It appears you've caught me with my pants down." Not literally, of course--that half a flash of a smile is back. Ah. He should move, shouldn't he? Allow him to scooch over, for just a second adjusting his glasses as he does so.
no subject
"The first of many times," he replies casually. There is a hot spring here now, an indulgent thing where many a person has seen the other in a state of actual undress. "Are you hungry?"
He reaches for a bundle buried under some snow. He can't offer a feast, but a few pieces of jerky and some dried fruit can do wonders to a hungry man.
no subject
Heartman blinks in surprise, and then finds himself chuckling somewhat, a flustered sort of caught-off-guard noise, happy to take the tiniest piece of jerky. He's not entirely hungry, but he follows Crozier's line of reasoning. Food, however basic, does wonders.
"Thank you, sir," he says, and hesitates mostly because he's looking for the proper words. "For the food and waking me. I apologize--in my effort to focus on testing my physical capability I forgot that resting incurs... That."
no subject
"Does that happen every time you sleep?"
no subject
"An unfortunate side effect to a condition. Not to worry, it's far from contagious." He has a lot of questions--namely how Crozier looks so very comfortable in this structure he's built for himself, like this is all old hat, but he'll keep that to himself for the time being and bring it up it in a few moments.
"Always the same one. Do you dream?"
no subject
"I don't know of anyone who doesn't," he answers, looking over the man's clothes and wondering how he'd managed not to freeze before stumbling over the ice-house. "Different dreams of different people, but they always evoke the same feeling. I've never heard of anyone having the same dream over and over."
He furrows his brow. "Your condition...are you frail, sir? Should you be out in the cold?"
no subject
"What causes my dreams--and my physical condition are two separate things, thankfully. I was trying to test what I could do in this environment, observe how far I could physically move now that the Aurora has given me some freedom to do so. Test my limits, as it were."
He can't help the slight, embarassed smile, but he's still going to attempt to keep the mood light.
"It appears I am not immune to humanity's compulsion to be reckless in the face of sudden change." A beat. "Pity."
no subject
“These limits…are you saying you’ve been granted abilities that you lacked before you arrived?”
no subject
"I have a deformed heart. A piece of technology is vital to ensure I live, but without electricity it's rendered rather useless. And yet--" Another sweep of his hands. "--I'm certainly alive enough to crawl into someone else's dwelling and nap."
He's never felt more like Goldilocks in his life. He inhales sharply, as if just remembering something.
"Which is fascinating structurally. Identical to what I've seen in textbooks that some people who spend their lives in the north used to build. Impeccable job."
no subject
He wants to talk about the deformed heart though, because that's a worrying thing to say so casually! Whatever the Aurora did to him could easily be undone.
"But alive and well and screaming in the homes of others. Are you well enough to walk back to town? I could escort you."
no subject
"That would be most kind--" except he can't help himself, curiousity taking over everything else, brain overriding itself with the inherent need to know.
"What was that experience, living with the Netsilik? I've never heard that phrase before."
no subject
"The people of the seal," he explains softly, pulling at his outer parka. "I met them when I was a young man sailing with Parry on his expeditions to the north. They were taken with sickness; I spent weeks carting the ill back and forth from their village to our ships. I learned how to speak Inuktitut."
From the parka he pulls out a small carving of what looks like the hull of a boat. "Their lives are difficult, but they're good-humored. Very superstitious." And with good reason. "I've lived with them for a few years now."
no subject
"Your experiences. Perhaps that's why you were brought here?" He's grabbing what insulation he has, getting ready to set out.
"Regardless, the aurora took a kindness to us. Certainly to me, with you. Thank you again."
no subject
Christ. It makes it brain hurt to think about it.
He helps the other man out of the igloo with quick but careful inspection of his clothes, not wanting to bring him out only to freeze him. "My name is Francis Crozier."
no subject
no subject
He feels guilty for the macabre line of thought, especially when his companion is so friendly. He returns the thumbs up - he has no idea what it means - and takes him out into the cold and back towards civilization.