but a strange light in the sky was shining right into my eyes

[singmod]

JANUARY 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: NASCENCE: Following the strange dream at new year, a three-day Aurora takes place. During which, Interlopers discover a possible ally in the mysterious woman heard in the static and heard in the dream — potentially earning new abilities.

PROMPT TWO — ADUST: The Interlopers find out what happened to the owners of long-destroyed Milton House in the form of hauntings.

PROMPT THREE — THE VISITOR: Interlopers find themselves with an unwelcome visitor — a shadow doppelganger here to make everything absolutely worse.

THE AURORA: NASCENCE

WHEN: January 13th - 15th.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially disturbing dreams; dreams of being burned alive; some minor supernatural horror; some minor ‘ghost’ horror/hauntings; death of npcs in various ways including suicide, murder or exposure to elements.


In the middle of the month, it happens. A herald. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night: The Aurora has come.

Much of what happened previously happens again: Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering at times. Previously abandoned cars will turn on, their headlights blaring. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, both only occasionally blaring standard emergency broadcasts. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

There are still some instances of the ‘ghosts’ from the previous Auroras, but they are now only faint outlines, and far fewer in number. However, whilst the Aurora would usually only last until the next morning on sporadic nights over the month — this time it will last for a full three days. The world is plunged into darkness, a seemingly endless night with only the Aurora to light the skies.

On the second night of lights and noise, a voice calls out to you: static-like, and distant — as if someone speaks over a radio. A woman’s voice. It is the same one you’ve been hearing for a few weeks now, but finally it is far stronger than the scant whispers of name and the word ‘help’. She is far clearer now.

“You.” she says. She may whisper your name, too. “I see you.” You’re unable to speak back, the communication is only one way. She sounds upset, but there’s something more… a kind of wonder, perhaps.

”It’s not just a regular aurora borealis, but then you probably worked that out already, haven’t you? It’s so much more than that. Everything is… changing.”

”I don’t know how you can go back. But— but I can help. Maybe. Maybe I can make this place easier, somehow. I need help, but I’m stuck—” There’s frustration in her voice for a moment. ”It took from you. Took you away. It doesn’t always have to take. We can take, too. Sleep. I will help you take back. You will survive this. You will not go into the Dark. This is not the end.”

You have no idea what that means, for the most part. But you might just end up taking the chance and doing as the woman asked, even if it’s difficult with the noise and light with the Aurora. Sleep, and a dream may come to you.

FREE RUNNER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are a magnificent stag, galloping through the snowy woods with ease. You seem to go on and on, never tiring, never slowing. You feel like the wind, or perhaps the very wind itself carries you. Not once do you stumble or fall, even when the snow is thick and deep, or the ground is shaky and uneven beneath you. You feel free.

When you awaken, you feel the most refreshed you’ve ever felt since you first came here. For the final day of the Aurora, you are bursting with energy and even when the lights in the sky fade — that revitalised feeling within you remains. There’s something within you that understands: you are the Free Runner. The ground will yield beneath you, your energy will not desert you, the wind will carry you.

LIGHT BRINGER: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of sitting by a lonely campfire in the mouth of a cave at night, warming your hands. As you sit, a strange feeling comes over you, a desire to reach out to the flames. And so you do, reaching with both hands into the fire — gripping at the white-hot embers. It burns you, and for a moment there is blinding hot pain as the fire suddenly explodes around you, consuming you whole. But the pain soon stops. The fire doesn’t burn you. No, you have become the blaze — your body warmed. You burn bright enough that the darkness around you turns into day.

When you awaken the next morning, you feel warmed and comfortable. As if even the coldest of winters couldn’t reach your bones. The warmth remains even when the Aurora ends, and you are left with the innate understanding:you are the Light Bringer. The power of flame is at your very fingertips. You master the light, life, warmth.

AURORA CALL: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream you are standing in the very sky itself, at the Aurora’s height. Colour and sound twirls around you, within you — and you feel it curl into your body. Your head fills with noise, a chorus of voices calling out, snippets of conversation echoing within you. A woman’s voice calls to you, it is the same voice that spoke to you before you slept: “Don’t you understand it now? We are all connected. The Aurora connects us.”

And you do, you do understand it.

When you awaken, you feel connected to the world around you. To the very people who live amongst you. You feel less lonely, a kind of kinship with others. You have heard the Aurora’s Call and you have answered it, unlocked a connection with your fellow Interlopers. You will be heard.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

ADUST

WHEN: From mid-month to month end.
WHERE: Milton House.
CONTENT WARNINGS: fire; house fire; death of a child/children; hauntings; ghosts; mental manipulation; illusions of burning/being burned; potential injuries via falling/unstable building collapsing.

There is a reason why it is advised to avoid Milton House other than the simple fact that it’s a miracle the house is still standing. Once one of the largest buildings in the town of Milton, it is now a former shell of what was once a fine and grand house. It has lain in ruin for many years, dilapidated and host to a great deal of fire damage.

While he is in town, Methuselah will not speak of the place, but he often looks sad when it has been brought up in conversation. “A great tragedy.” he will say before falling into a pensive silence. “A blackened mark on the town’s memory.” He does not wish to say much more of what happened: sometimes there are things that are just too painful. He will continue to advise the ruin is left alone, out of respect, and the fact that the place is a danger.

Of course, advice will not stop anyone from attempting to get into the ruins and exploring the house, even if it is in fact highly dangerous.

The sounds of voices and whispers may be enough to pique anyone’s interest. You're sure you heard something, maybe you should go to check it out?

It is true in the fact that the house itself is incredibly dangerous structurally: floors and stairs may give way and you’ll find your foot (and half of you) falling right through the floorboards. Damp and rot that have long since set in, and it will be dangerous to breathe in. But you’ll find that the house itself is pretty ordinary: this was once a family home. Just about the entirety of the house and its contents aren't salvageable, but you’ll be able to find out a little about who once lived here.

There are faded, half-destroyed photos that show a family of five: a father, mother, and three young children all under the age of ten. The father with warm, beaming smiles, the mother has kind eyes, the two oldest boys with toothy grins much like their father, the younger girl looks shy, wanting to hide against her mother. They look happy. Just a typical family. In a world where so many strange things are happening, it feels so strange to look upon these family photos and around this home to realise that they simply lost their home in a house fire.

But as you hold a family picture, or some half-destroyed trinket: a toy, a shoe, a book, a vase, you’ll find the item will suddenly catch alight, bursting into flames in your very hands. The flames do not burn you, and as you discard the item, it will fall to the floor as if nothing had happened.

Then, it comes to you. Here and there. Different sensations that stop and start suddenly: the house groans and creaks around you; the smell of smoke enters your nose; the sound of fire cracking and popping with a roar fills your ears; the sensation of heat against your skin; the clawing and suffocating feeling in your lungs that makes you cough and choke; the sounds of terrified shrieks of children echoing above you. Feelings flood you: fear, panic. When you next turn around, the entire house is aflame around you, and you can’t tell if this is real or if you’re reliving some terrifying memory.

You need to leave, get out of here. For some, it will be what comes naturally. You’ll have to fight through the flames and escape the house before it burns down completely around you. You’ll have to fight your way out, find an exit not already consumed by flames — through a window, perhaps. Crashing out of the house and into the snow, you’ll look back and see Milton House just as you entered it: nothing more than a half-burned ruin.

But for others, there will be another pull. You are drawn upstairs, to the screams of children. You need to get to them, to help them, save them. You will battle through the flames, heading towards the ruins of what was a child’s bedroom, or towards the bathroom. Inside either, you will find a figure cowering, engulfed wholly in flames: one in the bathtub or one in the closet. You recognise them as the two sons from the family pictures.

Mom. They will call you. Or Dad. They weep, terrified of the flames. I’m scared, I’m scared. I want the fire to go away. Help me. Stay here.

The tragedy of Milton House is before you. More than just a fire. What is more tragic than the death of a child? What silences voices? Breaks spirits? Leaves one helpless to act in the wake of such a passing?

There is something to be done here. You are not so powerless. Calm the child. Offer gentle assurances. They will get out. They are safe. You are there for them. You will stay. Embracing them will set you alight. Too hot. Too bright. It will hurt, but you won’t burn. But don’t let go; holding them will eventually calm them down enough for the flames to grow dim, to slowly ease their spirits to rest.

Soon enough, the flames will go out and the child will disappear, leaving you alone in a decaying, dilapidated room.

In the churchyard of Milton, there is a family grave by the name of Barker. Three lie within it: Thomas it reads, and his beloved sons, Patrick and Christopher.

THE VISITOR

WHEN: The month of January.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: erything absolutely worse.
THE VISITOR — CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural beings; dream-related horror/disturbing dreams; doppelgangers; themes of depression; themes of self-harm; themes of isolation; potential themes of suicide.


It seems the dream of the New Year and the Aurora dreams are not the only odd sleep-related instances occurring this month. You first notice that something is off when a strange dream pulls you from sleep. The dream may feel like any particular dream you have, whether it be a usual nightmare or strange concoction your brain has conjured up for you this night. Maybe it’s a dream you’ve had before, maybe it’s a new dream entirely. But no matter the dream, there is one thing that is odd about it. In tiny moments within the dream, you notice that there is something different, something that feels out of place. Something is there that shouldn’t be.

A figure, tall and silent, entirely made of shadow stands lurking in the background. It looks human, but there is not much more that you can really describe further. It is a sad, unsettling presence.

When you awaken, eyes bleary from sleep, and you look about the room, to the bottom of your bed, for a half-moment you see that figure standing there silently. That unsettling sadness permeates the room, and after a few seconds of blinking and sitting up — the figure disappears. Perhaps it was just some trick of the mind, some half-awake illusion.

But the next time you sleep, it appears again. The same figure, the same emotions surrounding it. And when you awaken, it stands at the bottom of your bed once more. Only this time, it lingers, and you find yourself staring down the figure before it disappears once more.

Over the next several days, the presence continues to linger more and more. It stands silently in the corner of the room of your home; it hovers by the window, staring out into the snow; it stands in the middle of the road as you go about your business. More and more, it is there. Always standing, always watching — silent and sad.

No one else seems to notice it, only you. And over time, the shape of it seems to change — the vague, undefined shape of it slowly shifts into something you recognise. The same hair, the same height, the same way it holds itself: it is exactly like you. A perfect doppelganger, a second shadow. And with it, it exudes an oppressive sadness, a particular kind of loneliness. It is suffocating, bleeding into you.

It makes you withdraw from the world around you, from the people around you. Perhaps you stop spending time with others, retreating into solitude. You hide from others, keep to yourself. You find yourself not sleeping at all or perhaps sleeping too much. Perhaps what little you already eat becomes nothing. The shadowy doppelganger draws ever closer to you, close enough to touch you - ever hovering at your shoulder. Its presence bores down on you, making you feel small and more and more alone even with its ‘company’. No one else can seem to see it but you, mentioning it to others will earn odd looks, or even concern. It seems you and your double are alone together.

Hopefully, those around you will notice the change in you. How you stopped reaching out, how you’ve stopped taking care of yourself. Hopefully they will see something isn’t right and reach out. You are doomed to the doppelganger's company otherwise.

However, those around you can push the shadowy double away, and can break its influence and hold over you. Genuine care and concern for you will have it shrinking back. Perhaps it is a kind word, perhaps it is the gentle but insisting coaxing to eat. Perhaps it is an attentive ear to listen to your thoughts, to how the presence has made you feel. Maybe it is even the simplest of touches, an embrace or the holding of a hand, the grip of a shoulder. Continued connection with you will slowly have the visitor’s power diminish.

And hopefully it is done before it is too late, or it may be all too easy to fade into the Long Dark.

FAQs

THE AURORA: NASCENCE

1. Aurora Feats are now unlocked! Please see the following page for more information. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

2. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Event. The only time this is available is this month. After January, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

3. This Aurora will last a full three days. It will be a period of only night.

4. For more information on the ghostly loops seen during the Aurora, see this previous event, under 'The Aurora: Aftershocks' prompt.

5. For new players who would like a little extra context regarding the woman can look at December's Tales From The Northern Territories, under the 'New Happenings in December' section.

ADUST

1. Characters will not be physically burned in the fire, but only feel as if they have been. The effects of this illusion will last a short time after they're out the house before they will fade.

2. The only real injuries characters can sustain will be from fall damage, or if the floor gives way and their feet go through, etc. whilst in the house.

3. The children cannot leave the house. They will be too scared to leave. In addition, they are tethered to the house, given that this is where they died. Simply being calmed/comforted is the best way to help them and they will disappear after that.

THE VISITOR

1. An Interloper's Visitor can't be seen by anyone but the Interloper themselves.

2. The Visitor can be spoken to, but it will not speak back. It cannot be interacted with and is intangible.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

[maintiensledroit]

Thank you.

[ No use in waiting; the place will only get more dangerous. Fraser makes his way across the floor adroitly, Diefenbaker sniffing ahead, both of them moving with athletic certainty. As balance and navigational challenges go, moving through this house reminds Fraser a bit of stepping on stones across a high-flowing river, with the knowledge that one false step might mean being swept away. But though the wood creaks and complains beneath them, neither hesitate, and the floor does not collapse, and Fraser arrives at the other man's side without a hair out of place, looking as mild and unfazed as he had when he entered. ]

By the way, I'm happy to see you didn't suffer any lasting complications from being out in the cold the other night.

[ No injuries, then, and no frostbite. A man still getting used to the loss of a toe or two might not be as adept at crossing a treacherous floor as Konstantin's footprints show. Diefenbaker is still acting a little strangely toward him – Fraser can see the way the wolf's nostrils flare as he takes the man's scent, over and over again – but he isn't aggressive.

Fraser tucks one hand at the small of his back, extending the other in a polite gesture, like a doorman's invitation. ]

Please, lead the way.

cw: some mild... alien worm activity

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin watches the other man move — steady on his feet, calm and collected. He's strong, he notes, sturdy. So is Konstantin, but a lot less so these days when he's prone to losing himself to his exhaustion and the thing inside of him making him sick, weak. It isn't... healing, the way it's supposed to. And so neither is he.

He wouldn't be able to win any kind of physical struggle against this man. (Not that he plans for anything to come to that; it's only a mental note he makes about Fraser, the way he's been making mental notes on everyone he comes across here. Better to know those kinds of things ahead of time, think about them, prepare for how to guide a situation the way you can with what you have to work with.) ]

No consequences. It was probably a good thing you showed up to urge an old man back inside when you did, though.

[ His eyes crinkle briefly at the corners, stepping back a little to make room for the other man and his steadfast companion as they near him — gaze dipping down to the animal to watch him for a moment, tensing on instinct as the large prey animal nears him. And as the wolf comes closer like that, to a position that's already cramped and tight, Konstantin's breathing in the air of him, the scent, even if on a level he's not necessarily fully aware of. It's there, though. It's there, and it gets into him, and the thing that's so sensitive to the environment around it — everything filtered through its host — stirs suddenly.

It's usually sleeping during the day, a nocturnal thing used to the deep dark of outer space. Its movement startles him, something so unexpected and nothing he can ever really get used to, like a fish trapped inside of him, wet and soft and flipping itself around. The man gives a soft exhale of breath before he can stop himself, quickly pressing a hand to his stomach as he nods, turns his back to the pair and steps carefully into the next room.

That's... mildly alarming. He doesn't like that it's moved during the day like that. (There's another thought, and it's that maybe he couldn't physically subdue this man if he had to, but he's in a contained environment with him, and if the alien decides to leave his body, he can't do anything to stop it, and it could rip this young man apart.) Konstantin tries to stave his anxiety about it, keep himself calmed, although he's purposefully keeping his back to Fraser and his wolf friend for the moment, scanning this new room instead (a sitting room, maybe?) Like in the previous ones, the sign of ruin and neglect couldn't be made more clear. Everything's covered in charred ash, cracked and faded.

He passes by a few photos hung up on the wall, pausing at a smiling family of five, brows furrowed as he takes in the family name at the bottom before he starts nudging his shoe around a few items littered on the floor. Toys. ....Kids lived here, of course; the photos say as much. Konstantin finally looks back over his shoulder at the constable, slowly lowering his hand from his abdomen, ignoring the slick nausea at the back of his throat. ]

Definitely a family home. Do you recognise the name "Barker?"

[ He's a newcomer here, but maybe the other man would know something about it. ]

[maintiensledroit]

Yes, I've seen it in the graveyard, by the church.

[ Noted in passing, as he'd noted the other names on other stones, as he'd noted the names on the bulletin board up at the Community Hall. There's a mystery to this place that has the investigator in him perking up, curious and dogged, and he wishes Ray were here. For so many reasons, not least of which is that Ray is a very fine detective and as tenacious as wolf on the hunt, no matter how many times and ways he tries to loudly tell the world he isn't, that he doesn't care.

He cares deeply. It's the quality that had drawn Fraser to him in the first place. If he didn't care, he could easily have passed Fraser and his requests off to some other detective and Gerrard might never have been caught.

His boots leave tracks in the soft ash and dust that covers the floor of the room, and Diefenbaker's claws are muffled with each step. The air feels strange and close in here, and Fraser finds himself turning around, back to the other man, looking up and around. At the ceiling, at the walls. Uncertain why the back of his neck is prickling.

Dief feels it, too; the wolf pauses where he is, just through the door of the room, and stays there, something Fraser doesn't notice until he hears the familiar, low, deep-throated rumble of Diefenbaker's growl. When he looks, the wolf is staring into the center of the room, his gaze fixed on neither man and on nothing Fraser can see, and his ears are flattening back. The ruff at the nape of his neck begins to rise with his hackles. ]

Dief?

[ Fraser half-turns to the other man, uncertain. ]

I'm sorry, I'm not sure what's gotten into him.

cw: slightly grosse parasite things

[sputnik]

[ The church, huh... It isn't a place that Konstantin has visited, apart from walking past it on one of his meager attempts to get some exercise — never nearing the building, never paying it much mind at all. ]

So the family here must have passed away before the mass.... deaths. The ones that happened right before people began showing up here, [ he muses, quietly. It's information he's been able to put together in his weeks here. The first group of "Interlopers" seemed to arrive when the bodies of the original townspeople were still so fresh. They all had to buried.

But if Barker has their own plot.... they must have died before? It's something to carry with him, certainly, to think about more on later. For now —

....something's wrong with the wolf. Konstantin looks quickly over, at first because of the initial discomfort that comes with seeing a prey animal growling like that. But soon enough the thing inside of him, already alerted to the wolf's strange novel scent, begins to react with worse aversion. When it's inside of him, it's reduced to a more larval form, but it's sensitive and adaptable and reacts to the stimuli around it accordingly. Imitating what it feels, aggressive if something around it is aggressive — or at least, perceived that way.

It lurches inside of him and Konstantin gasps louder this time, leaning over, giving quick, pained breaths. Nausea slicks the back of his throat; quickly, pleadingly, he manages to lift his head weakly to Fraser. ]

Please — make him stop, if you can. It's— ah!

[ It spasms, fitful in response to the vibrations of rippling sound, squirming like a trapped snake. Konstantin's eyes sting at the corners, and he clutches his stomach again, tighter. ]

[maintiensledroit]

[ Some of them is what he'd meant to say, before Diefenbaker stiffened and started snarling at the air, because there are fewer names in the graveyard than there are people in these photos, but Fraser's attention is, necessarily, elsewhere at the moment. With one hand held palm out to Diefenbaker, he turns to the other man in no small amount of alarm. It would be a waste of time to ask what's wrong; Konstantin is clearly wracked with pain, and his distress is just as clearly linked to Diefenbaker's defensiveness.

Fraser looks back at the wolf. His voice is intent and firm when he speaks. ]

Diefenbaker!

[ But Dief isn't looking at him. The wolf is braced as though readying himself for a fight; his tongue laps at his yellowed fangs as he stares into what appears to be nothing other than thin air. Whatever's gotten into him, it's not going to be something Fraser can solve in the next minute, so the Mountie leaves off, coming to assist his companion instead. He reaches for the other man's arm, already considering the path he'll take with Konstantin's weight slung over his shoulder. ]

He never listens... please, allow me. There's a doctor in the town, I can bring you to him.

[sputnik]

[ Unfortunately, although so sensitive and aware of the things around it, the entity isn't capable of reason, of a particular level of understanding. Everything is very basic, like animal instinct, reactions. And its tether to Konstantin's hormonal fluctuations is the only context for where to direct its reactions. In this moment, his upset surges — not aimed at Fraser but going that way by default, a plead for his wolf companion to be settled, a flinch when the other man nears him — and the thing inside of him ripples with fresh agitation at the sound of Fraser's voice suddenly so much nearer. Something outright aggressive — flailing, lunging.

Konstantin's gasping at the sensation, and when Fraser reaches for his arm, he isn't thinking, can't think about anything, slaps his hand against the younger man's wrist and latches onto it with a large, strong hand, firm and tight and forceful. ]

Don't— [ he doesn't shout the word, but his eyes are dark from pain and anxiety and cut sharp as knives for a brief moment that's aimed right at the other man. Don't touch him, don't come closer, don't, don't, and he thinks for those horrible seconds that any moment now the thing will send him into seizure, knock him out, he won't be able to stop it. He needs to put distance between them; it was a mistake to let anyone get close.

He would never hurt this man on his own. He wouldn't. He's reaching for a nearby object before he even really knows what it is — a small vase sitting on a charred wooden thing that might've once been an end table. It's not to use on Fraser, of course it isn't. It's just instinct, the same as the thing inside of him, some kneejerk reaction. Something that overrides conscious thought, tells him to grab a weapon, even if he won't use it, of course he wouldn't—

—the lip of the vase is held in the fingers of his other hand and suddenly it's on fire. Konstantin blinks wide, not understanding. His hand's on fire; no, the vase is, the fucking thing just erupts, and for some impossible moment he thinks he did this somehow.

In one act he lets go of Fraser's wrist and the vase, and the thing goes crashing to the ruined wood below, cracks into pieces. He's gaping, not understanding, but the flames seem to have.... stopped. (Is he hallucinating? Losing his mind? Konstantin's heart is pounding and the thing is still reeling with upset inside of him, but there's another horror now, his other hand still briefly curled from where it had been grasping Fraser's wrist, fingers tucked in like a spider's legs.) ]

I'm sorry— I'm sorry, I didn't— are you all right? [ He swipes both hands against the front of his clothing as though to brush off some lingering flame, but nothing.... hurts. It didn't hurt him. ] I don't—...

[maintiensledroit]

[ Konstantin's fingers clamp onto his wrist with surprising force, and Fraser hears the timbre of Diefenbaker's snarl change. It shifts downward, low and dangerous, and he knows without looking that this one motion has done what he's been trying to avoid: turned Dief's attention on Konstantin, identified him as a threat. He doesn't take his eyes off the other man as he throws his free hand out behind him, fingers spread: stop. His voice cracks like a whip. ]

Diefenbaker, don't.

[ He doesn't need to see the wolf to know those sharp eyes are trained on Konstantin. As he watches Konstantin reach for the vase, he can hear the slow click of claws on the floor as Diefenbaker comes closer and knows there are only moments to prevent catastrophe. ]

It's all right.

[ Spoken to the other man, as soothingly as he can despite the stress of the situation. His glance flicks to the vase and back again. ]

You can put that down. We can —

[ The pressure on his wrist vanishes as sudden flames flare into his vision. Fraser winces, lifting his now-freed hand to try and block the flash of light, before he's instantly reaching out again, trying to ascertain if Konstantin is injured. ]

I'm perfectly fine. Are you burned?

[sputnik]

No, I'm— I'm not hurt. It didn't burn me.

[ How is that possible? Konstantin's staring down at his hands, both of them now, confused, alarmed, not understanding. None of this... makes sense, can be explained with a rational mind, but Fraser saw the flames, too, which means he at least didn't hallucinate the experience. So then.... what is this?

There's another uncomfortable prickle as he looks to the wolf suddenly, none of the upset within himself has stopped, and he knows he should leave now. ]

I think it's probably best if I head back now. I'm sorry, [ he apologises again, meaning it, easing back from the other man and his companion. But it's as he's doing so that he realises he can smell more burning now, and he's alarmed, looking down to the vase. Is it spreading fire after all....? No, it's not that, but....

....It's everything else. The room they're in is starting to burn. Tattered curtains are licked with flame, floorboards are flickering with heat, and the smell of smoke is singing the air. Konstantin tenses, looking quickly to Fraser — not panicked, but ready to move, now. ]

Let's— [ His words cut off as a scream sounds through the progressive crackle of flames and the split or two of something wooden. It sounds like it's come from upstairs, and Konstantin's eyes find Fraser's with horror. There's someone inside. Immediately he's moving forwards, not back to where the front door was but towards the next room; the stairs have to be nearby. He's shouting back to Fraser over his shoulder as he moves, panting quietly with exertion from the state of his own body, the upset of the thing inside of him. The other man needs to get out of here, quickly. ]

Go! I'll find them!

[maintiensledroit]

[ His head snaps up at the scream – he hears it, too, despite the impossibility of the situation. There hadn't been anyone else in the house, he'd been almost certain of it. And that high-pitched wailing, the tone and timbre of it... it could only be coming from a child. ]

Excuse me, Commander, but I can't obey that order.

[ He says it even as he breaks into a run to follow the other man, Diefenbaker loping at his side.

The hall is already aflame, this fire spreading faster than he thought it might, and the stairs are a smoking mess, fire licking at the carpet, the dry wood. There's no telling how long they'll be structurally sound enough to climb, and so he doesn't break stride or slow down, only attacks the stairs like he would any other obstacle in his way, the way he jumps over rooftop gaps and leaps from fire escapes in Chicago.

His boots hit the smoldering carpet two stairs at a time, only for another terrified shriek to echo through the simmering air, jolting him into even greater speed. ]

SHOUTS as I get to my backtag pile, zero worries if you're not feeling this anymore!!!

[sputnik]

[ Commander. It feels like a very long time since he's heard that word, especially used in a situation like this — although it really hasn't been that long at all. No, it wasn't so long ago that everything was going wrong, and the shuttle was flaring bright blue and red with emergency, and Averchenko was looking to him for guidance that he didn't know how to give.

Next came unbearable pain, and— flames. He remembers flames. He remembers blood.

Konstantin keeps moving, up the stairs, wanting to protest that the other man stop, turn back (he's responsible for Fraser being in here and so he's responsible for him, his mind insists, he can't let him be hurt)— but there isn't time to argue. Everything's burning brighter and faster than it should be. Where did this come from...? It's like suddenly being in a nightmare.

The scream is closer now. High-pitched, youthful. It sounds like a child, and Konstantin's heart freezes in his chest, but it doesn't stop him from reacting. He's been trained for harrowing situations like this, conditioned; he barely thinks about the flames. But he does take a moment to pause, finally, one hand grabbing for Fraser's arm, holding on tight — not to stop him but to get his attention. They're a team in this; there's no time to be anything else. ]

Can you tell which room it's coming from? [ Voice hoarse with ache from smoke, his eyes dart down to the wolf that's followed them up here, too; maybe he can? They don't have time to search each room. He tries not to think about the fact that at the rate the place is burning, they may already be too late. ]

[maintiensledroit]

[ A hand grips his arm and Fraser leans close, trying to hear over the crash and roar of the fire all around them. At the question, he nods, short and sharp. Cups his hand over his mouth to yell back: ]

There are two!

[ Two voices, each one distinct from the other. Fraser points to one door along the hall, listens closely, then to another at the far end. He takes hold of the other man's shoulder and pushes him toward the near door, then takes off down the hall for the other. ]

Go, get them out!

[ The door is locked; he wastes no time in lifting one booted foot and slamming it into the wood, already weakened by flame. Instantly, fire licks upward, greedily consuming the wave of air he'd brought with him, and he crosses his arms in front of his face to push through, Diefenbaker leaping into the room as he does. ]

Where are you?

[ Another shriek sounds; he's in the ruins of a child's bedroom, and the cry came from the closet. Fraser rushes there, hissing as his fingers touch the searing doorknob, and wrenches the door open, reaching for the little boy he finds crouched there, pushed back against the wall. ]

I'm here, come with me. Quickly!

[sputnik]

[ Two...? It takes him a moment to realise, an odd staggering second or two, and then horror comes flooding in as quickly as the flames had erupted. There are two people trapped in here. Two people screaming.

When Fraser urges him towards one of the doors, Konstantin knows all he can do is trust the younger man's judgment, and nods quickly, heading that way. It takes a shove or two of his shoulder against a door that's not locked but is difficult to open, the door warped by the heat of flame. Konstantin tucks his face against the inside of his elbow, trying to breathe in as little smoke as he possibly can, eyes watering as he stumbles into the room. Physical exertion is difficult for him these days, and his body hurts, stomach aching with more sharp pangs, but he ignores it, pushes forwards as he looks around what he realises is a small bathroom.

Crouched in the space between toilet and tub is a little boy. Horror grips the cosmonaut but he wastes no time moving to crouch in front of the child, tearing his coat off with the intent to wrap it around the boy's head, only something happens that finally, finally makes him pause.

'Daddy!' the boy screams, lunging for him, fingers grasping the front of his clothing, curling in tight as the child buries his face against his chest, trembling uncontrollably.

Konstantin isn't one to freeze. Not like this. But the shock of it— it almost knocks him sideways. He blinks, wide-eyed and stunned, arms wrapped around a little boy who cries against him, and the word comes again; it's all the child can say in his upset. 'Daddy....' ]

[maintiensledroit]

[ The boy only cringes back, crying. No matter how Fraser attempts to coax him, he only shrinks against the back wall of the closet, unwilling or unable to come out. The fire is raging now, and Fraser's eyes are streaming from the heat and smoke, but he can barely reach the child. ]

Dief!

[ he commands, and the wolf comes forward to protect the boy, whose fingers curl into the wolf's shaggy coat with the strength of desperate panic.

Leaving is the last thing he wants to do, but he needs help... and perhaps Konstantin does, too. Coughing, Fraser forces his way back out of the room and along the hall to the other door, peering through the smoke to see the other man crouched in front of another boy, one who has fled into his arms and is currently sobbing with broken, gasping breaths.

But the man isn't moving. He isn't trying to get the boy out, he seems lost in a sudden reverie, and Fraser makes his way through the cloying smoke and licking flames to grab his shoulder. ]

Commander, he needs you to help him!

cw: mention (brief) of suicide

[sputnik]

[ Is this.... real?

Even through all of the recent horrors of the creature that has taken over his body and his life — the facility, the experiments, the near-complete loss of self... nothing has made him freeze like this. Nothing has made him feel like nothing. The thought of rescuing Aleksei had been a driving force that made everything else bearable, given him the necessary tunnelvision to power through. And then abruptly he had to make a decision that guaranteed he would once again fail to reach his son.

Is this boy that calls him Daddy... his punishment? For pulling the trigger, for ending the thing's life by ending his own? For choosing the rest of humanity over his poor child?

None of it mattered, in the end. He's not dead; he and the monster are still alive somehow, and trapped in this place. None of his efforts to keep humanity safe did anything. And Aleksei is still alone, abandoned. The thought is.... Konstantin can't. He can't cope with it.

Commander! Fraser's voice cuts through the crackle of flame and the whimper of the little boy against his chest, and Konstantin looks widely up at the grab to his shoulder. He needs you to help him!

Him... this boy. Is he real? Does it matter even if he's not? He feels real, smells real, sounds real — Konstantin nods quickly in the face of the other man; Fraser's something familiar to help ground him again. He squeezes the child as he moves to try and stand, to pull him up. There's another boy, they have to go get him too, get them both out of here; they can each carry one.

But the boy won't budge, an unwilling shaking thing against his chest, pleading over and over again for him to stay here with him, and Konstantin's heart is pounding away as he spills reassurances to the child. ]

I won't leave you — we won't leave you. I promise! But we have to go get your brother, we'll get you both out—

[ The boy just wails louder, refusing to be picked up, and Konstantin looks miserably up at Fraser. The constable came back here for a reason, maybe he needs help retrieving the other child, but— ]

You should go, get the other one and get out of here, you can make it! You'll be okay!

[ His head dips to the boy against his chest as he coughs against the child's soft hair. The flames are so hot, the smoke's unbearable. There's a slim chance of making it out of this crumbling house alive now, but maybe Fraser still could. So Konstantin stops trying to pull the child up and simply holds onto him now, sitting on the floor, no longer attempting escape. ]

It's okay. I'll stay with him.

[ This boy isn't his Aleksei, and giving his life to stay with him won't absolve the cosmonaut of what he's done, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that this child won't die alone. But... it's when he says that, and his body language shifts, that something seems to shift in the child, too. The boy calms, relaxing, no longer screaming or weeping loudly. He lets himself be held, protected, and as Konstantin murmurs to him that it's all right, everything's all right, something seems to... happen to the world around them, impossible as it may be — the room is changing, the flames that were licking at the walls die and the room is black and smells of faint char, and Konstantin realises he's holding onto nothing. ]