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

[fidior]

[ Edward doesn't respond to the knock — barely even registers it. He only stays sitting there at the little table, shoulders slumped forwards, body posture limp and heavy. On the surface rests the little badge that La'an had left for him.

He's only looking up when Billy speaks, dimly aware of someone stepping into his cabin but unconcerned with that fact. Slowly, his head lifts just enough so that he can see the other man standing there, staring for a long moment, eyes half-lidded. Everything feels so weighted down in him, every piece of his body. Even his skin itself. His double stays where it is, watching. ]

Mr. Gibson.

[ It's soft, faint. Hasn't he been a ghost for a very long time now? Even so, Edward's mannerism slips in like auto-pilot, although without any of its usual earnest sincerity, like a dog loyal to any human around him. Now the words only come out in a quiet murmur. ]

How can I help you?

[notarat]

[ The other's reaction is even stranger than the entire scene had already been. Especially since Billy can't even see the third presence in this room that the other man can see, leaving all Billy witnesses as one man looking incredibly unkempt, just.. sitting there. Barely even reacting to anything.

He glances back at the door that had been open before Billy entered. Just for how long has he been sitting here like this? Why would he even be doing that in the first place? Is he trying to get himself killed?

Even if Billy would sort Edward among the more melancholy types he knows, he wouldn't assume the other to be capable of making a decision like that out of nowhere.

It's tempting to make an excuse. To walk away. Judging by the other's lack of energy, a reaction that barely is a reaction, Billy could pull it off easily. And it's not like he has any duty here. This truly is not his circus, he tells himself. Not his monkeys. He's in his full right to just walk away from a situation as awkward as this one, and no one could blame him for anything. They're no longer on the ships, no longer even on the expedition.

And yet, as Billy's foot moves just the slightest inch closer back towards the exit, he stops himself.

He thinks about the many layers the other man deposited on him to get him warm back when he first arrived. The sharing of food. The promise to protect him from Hickey - one that feels kind of laughable now, but still made with good intent.

Billy can't get himself to leave. Instead he takes a step closer towards the table, but still leaving quite some distance between the two of them. ]

If you would excuse my candor..

[ He knows there's no ranks anymore, but it's hard to not fall back into old habits when the situation is so hard to understand. There's no time to waste mental capacity on anything other than trying to figure this out right now. ]

.. you don't exactly look like you could help anyone right now, sir. [ (Alright, Billy, maybe a little bit too much candor there, boy!!) ] How long have you been sitting here like this?

[fidior]

[ Billy's not wrong about that..... and in truth, if he had needed some sort of help, Edward couldn't truly have offered it. No, the words are just... something to say. Something his old self would have said (and meant.) Now...? They just exist; they don't mean anything. Nothing means anything.

But he won't shoo the other out or shirk from him; Edward just sits there, unmoving, but listening. He isn't... completely gone. Not just yet. He's on the cusp of it maybe, that point of no return. Things feel heavy and dreamlike, as though he's trapped in some other world, trudging through a bog. The mist obscures his vision; the smell of mud is almost unbearable. He can't imagine ever escaping.

At least William's question gives him some sort of focus, however. Something to have to respond to, to answer. Little's silent for a long few moments, and it might seem as though he's ignoring the other man, but it's not quite that. It's only taking him a very long time to sort his thoughts, but finally, they'll come— ]

I don't.... recall.

[ But something else sticks out, and it's actually enough to have him moving, a little. The man's head tips slightly forwards, gazing down at his hands, folded in his own lap. ]

You don't have to call me "sir" anymore, William. I am not.... I am no longer a lieutenant. I am no longer anything.

[notarat]

[ If this had just been the other man putting his title down, Billy could've understood. There truly are no ranks here anymore, technically speaking, though the idea of calling the other by his actual name after years of being a steward feels.. awkward.. (Maybe it's why, even though it's odd to hear his first name coming from the other, he's at least glad it isn't Billy. William at least feels a little more distant than that.)

But this goes beyond that. The other's odd behaviour, almost unresponsive. The way he looks like he hasn't even been taking care of himself, and then the other saying I am no longer anything...

That's much stranger. It's like the other's soul has left him. Like he somehow became an empty husk. Billy stares at the scene, unsure of how to reply, unsure of what to do here in the first place. It's far too strange to try and wrap his head around.

Maybe that's why he doesn't reply. Billy doesn't say a word. He also ignores the temptation of the door, the idea of leaving, and instead moves through the cabin in a straight line, heading to where he had seen the other man making food him before, back when Billy first arrived. He figures that Edward can't have any fresh food here in his current state, but after looking through the place, he does manage to find something canned.. better than nothing, he supposes, and with just as little words - none, really - he sets to preparing a meal.

Granted, he's a steward, not a cook, but.. well, this place and living together with just Hickey have forced him to pick up some new skills real quick. It means there's good while of no words breaking the silence in the cabin, only the sound of tins and kitchen tools and plates being moved.

Then, after a long while of just those sounds, Billy approaches the table Edward is sitting at again, this time putting down a plate with a meal on it. Nothing too fancy, given that it's just warmed up contents of a can, but.. it's better than nothing. Next he moves to put down the eating utensils next to it with a practiced grace, trying really hard to not think about how often he's done that for this same man. ]

Here. [ He says, after he pulls his hands away again. ] Eat.

[ It's definitely not a role-reversal order or anything, Billy sounds much too awkward for that.. but it definitely still is a bit of an awkward erasure of ranks. ]

[fidior]

[ When the other moves, Edward does slowly lift his head to look up at him, for just a moment. When it becomes clear what he's doing, he's lowering it again, eyes cast to the floor. There's a moment when he almost finds the words — to ask him to stop, to leave, that he doesn't have to do this — but he can't quite hold onto them. He just sits there in silence, broken only by the various clink of tools and things shifting around.

It could almost be familiar. How many times has this man prepared his meals, washed his clothing, standing there in the corner of a room waiting to assist? Something to that trace of familiarity makes his heart ache, and his eyes moisten a little, but he keeps himself gathered for the most part. Even as guilt pools into his belly, making it feel heavy and sore.

And then there is a meal placed before him. A meal and an instruction — not a demand, voiced far too soft and awkward for that; Gibson always was a soft-spoken man. Edward enjoyed that about him, found a particular comfort in the gentleness. He often struggled with... interacting with the men, knowing what to do or say, but with Gibson it was easier. The steward seemed just as comfortable to keep things businesslike, not expecting small talk, and while Edward was always amicable to him, he found that he never had to try to be something outside of his own comfort zone.

He looks up, slowly, neck tilted back given that he's sitting down and Billy is quite tall... Dark eyes meet the other's pair for a long moment as he stares up at him.

And then, just as slowly, he reaches for the fork, and he begins to eat. Even if it's something canned and old, the food is good, perhaps anything is after a person knows what it is to starve. He still struggles with eating most days, finding himself almost averse to it, a side-effect of his circumstances he did not expect. But his body still takes over when it needs to, and he hasn't really eaten in... days? He's hungry. He realises it only when he swallows some down, when his stomach finds itself aching for more.

So he eats more. It's slowly, and his expression remains miserable (but then, that is just how he looks most of the time anyway....) and after a few moments of silently eating, his fork scrapes the bottom, and he sets it down on his cleared plate. It's the most he's eaten in a long time. ]

Thank you. [ ...It comes out a little less automatic than his words before. Perhaps the gesture of kindness and concern.. helps. Perhaps that shadowed thing drains him just a little less, even if only for a few moments. Its presence is so strong by now that it won't leave him so easily, but...

Slowly, Edward slides the plate away from himself, but not towards Gibson. It goes off to the side, leaving no room to wonder if the other man should clear it; Edward won't hear of it. Instead— ]

...Will you sit? With me.

[ It's... not something he's ever done. It's not something that would be done. He'd never sat at a table with any of the stewards, not even Jopson, the captain's. Not until the other was promoted in rank later on. But here... it doesn't matter. None of that matters. ]

[notarat]

[ There's some strange relief in watching the other man eat, despite his current state.

Billy tries to not think too hard about the feeling, not right now.

Instead he's thinking more about leaving. He did what he ought to do to make sure he doesn't feel any guilt for leaving, right? He made sure the other ate. What more can be expected of him, especially in a place where they no longer have the roles they did back home, where he's no longer bound to Little in any way?

But by the time he's made up his mind to leave, the other man actually speaks up. It causes Billy to look back down at him, something in his eyes a little.. confused when he hears the words. Partially because it's indeed unheard of. And though ranks may not exist here anymore, it still seemed before to Billy like the lieutenant was clinging so tightly to his own that he'd never imagine Little asking him to come sit with him now. And even beyond ranks-- why would he ask Billy for this? They were close by duty, technically speaking, but Billy has never carried himself the way Jopson did and he knows it. There was never any personal loyalty in it, it was just.. work. He had been hired to take care of the lieutenants' every need, and that's just what he did. None of the three knew who he really was, and Billy was more than content with keeping himself locked away from them, too afraid of how they'd react to seeing any part of him. (Even more so after Irving saw just a glimpse, and reacted in the sort of way that made Billy feel like his world was crumbling.)

Despite the absurdity of the request, however, Billy doesn't ignore it. He doesn't instantly react either, the two of them just awkwardly staring at each other, but then Billy slowly grabs the other chair to move it backwards enough for him to sit down on it, joining the other man at the table.

He forces himself to meet the other's gaze, if Little is still looking over. ]

.. why did you want me to sit?

[ It's not a question of courtesy as much as Billy just.. really is curious. Is this just another effect of the other man's odd state? It's the only possible conclusion he can think of. ]

[fidior]

[ He doesn't have to. That's the thing — it's not an order. It's only... a question, from one man to another. And for a long moment, Gibson doesn't move, and Little thinks maybe he won't, and that would be all right. He can leave if he wants to, or needs to. He doesn't have to do anything.

But then the other man is moving to join him, and although everything is slow and strange and awkward, Little seems calm. He sits unmoving, dark eyes slowly rolling upwards to find Gibson's, and it's a perfectly valid question, but one that he finds himself unsure how to easily answer. Especially with his thoughts as muddled and odd as they are, everything layered in the effects of his shadowed twin. (Who hasn't moved any closer, he notes from his peripheral, staying right where it is, but he knows it's watching everything.)

Edward takes a few long moments to reply, letting the words sink into him, find him. ]

Because it was... kind of you. To try and help me. You were not required to.

[ Even through all of his own strangeness, Edward can see that. His brow knits a little, conflicted, torn between the easy numb state he wants to tip into and the.... sensation of feeling, of a heart that aches and warms by the gesture of another man's assistance.

There's another pause, a stretch of silence, and Edward's mouth opens, waits, and then the words come, soft. Ordinarily he might not open up such personal feelings to anyone, but it feels like... he has little left to lose, anymore. Who cares if he shows his weaknesses, now? He's already proven how weak he is. He couldn't protect La'an. He can't protect anyone. ]

....I no longer know who I am, William. I have no purpose, here.

[ He watches the other, looks to him almost thoughtfully. ]

Do you... ever feel like that, now?

[notarat]

[ The quiet isn't as strange as the words. If anything, Billy feels like he might actually feel more comfortable sitting here in the silence than with the words themselves, especially when he doesn't know how to feel about them. Nothing the other man points out at first is wrong, but it still sits.. a little uncertain within him. Maybe it's since he always imagined what things would be like after the journey was over, especially when they got delayed so much, stuck in the ice for so long. When Billy began to resent aspects of his work, when he told himself that after a while it would be over, that he could turn his back on it all, that he might be able to join a different ship with his new experience and never have to see most of these people again.

He never imagined himself wanting to be involved with Edward Little in any sort of way once it was over. And it is over now. One way or another, Billy is never returning home. He's dead. The transition - whether dead or alive - to this place marked the end of their duty for all of them. You were not required to, the other says, and he is right. Billy owes him nothing anymore, nor did he imagine he would ever do this for the other, and yet here he is, doing it anyway.

He's snapped out of the awkward lack of ability to figure out why by the other's words. The next ones, the ones that are a little less surprising. Even though it doesn't seem like they could be the cause of the other falling into this sort of extreme mood, it's not a surprising sentiment to hear from the lieutenant of all people. If anyone on those ships seemed ingrained with their duty, it was Edward Little. Billy isn't sure if he's ever heard a word out of the man's mouth that didn't have to do with work.

Though it's the question that follows that begs the next question about how honest Billy should be here. Not very, his instinct says, wanting to keep all of himself as close to his chest as always, especially around the lieutenants.

But it's hard to lie or dodge the question completely in the face of those soulful heavy eyes looking right at him. It requires-- balance. ]

No. [ The honest answer, though expressed in a more neutral sort of tone than Billy would be using if he was complaining about this very thing with someone close to him. ] .. Is the service our only purpose?

[ Sure, the other man may have been different from him in rank, but it was near the end that Billy truly realised how little that meant. In the end they were all just meaningless pieces in something bigger, something that could easily be thrown away. Would anyone even care about what happened to their crew? Even the queen would obviously not even shed a tear, despite the entire organisation being named after her.

No one would give two shits about Billy's bones resting out there in the middle of nowhere forever-- he knows that much. ]

As humans, is our purpose not just to live, and to find what makes that life worthwhile along the way?

[ He's saying it because he believes it, sure, but.. it's also to nudge the other along a little. Billy doubts Crozier is going to crawl out of his igloo any time soon to give Little the permission to just live, and the lieutenant always seemed to do so badly without guidance. This entire display might just be the biggest example of it. ]

[fidior]

[ 'No.'

That simple, to the point answer startles him for some reason, eyes widening slightly. And he's realising that this may be the first time he's ever asked William Gibson something that could constitute as a personal opinion. Realises that he really knows him so little at all. He knows Gibson's surface mannerism alone, and knows what he was required to know as a lieutenant, which is to say the details of the man's background and history. But.... his thoughts, desires, personality at all.... He knows none of it. Has no idea how William might be handling this whole situation. Whether it's adapting, the way some from their number have been, or... resisting that concept, like Edward.

So he stays quiet, listening, attentive. As the man speaks of purpose, questioning ideas that Edward has been so resolutely conflicted by and holding onto. Here William is, putting it into something very simple, and Edward's almost.... awed by that. Taken aback to be sure, staring, but in a way that is less upset or disturbed and simply..... surprised. And— yes, a bit awed.

Even if it's difficult for him to see it so easily, so simply, for him to accept such a thing. In fact, he finds himself not even knowing how to respond, at a loss for words. Little looks down at his hands again, mouth opening slowly, seeking words to find and his tongue only floundering. Finally— ]

....They are wise words.

[ He means it; they are. Even with the effects of that strange double, he can see that, the wisdom to them. The truths. Even if he doesn't know what it is to just... live. ]

But I... my duty to serve.... there is nothing else. It is all I can offer to those of this community. It is.... my only worth.

[ He truly does feel that way, and admitting it aloud is a strange feeling, like a hook snagged up under his ribs, pulling too hard. Edward falters a little, gives an odd half-gasp, breath shuddery, but he continues. Even if all of this is strange, and especially to be sharing it with his former steward of all people... something in him wants to continue. ]

And yet I consistently fail at it. People continue to... die, to suffer. There is no.... point to me. No longer.

[ ...Another pause, another realisation quietly, slowly voiced. ]

....Perhaps it has been that way for some time, now. Perhaps long before this place. None of it really mattered back then, did it? ....Out on the ice. All of it was hopeless.

[ He'd fought so hard, so foolishly... clung onto hope so long. Too long. Longer than almost anyone. And now... here he is, having done the exact same thing in this place, and once again it has done nothing. ]

[notarat]

Yes. We were all going to die out there regardless.

[ It's an answer he has to think less about. And it doesn't feel too bold to offer it either when the other man is practically saying the same thing here. Billy figures many more of them must have been thinking about it back then, it just wasn't frequently voiced, because what would voicing it help?

But he knew. The moment he discovered the increasing number of bruises on his body every night before he went to sleep - Billy knew that it was hopeless. The mutiny had been a last attempt to try and regain some control, a desperate attempt to live, and even that hadn't worked. He doesn't know what happened with that after he died, but.. he honestly can't imagine any of them made it. It's likely all of them died out there somewhere on that desolate land. The idea may be bleak, but it's also just plainly true. If different decisions had been made very early on, then.. sure, they easily could have made it. But by the time people finally got the idea that different decisions had to be made, it had already been too late.

Did Little have a hand in that? Partially, maybe. Billy knows he's lamented about the general incompetence of their lieutenant crew to himself many times. He's definitely wondered how things would have turned out with different men than Little, Hodgson and Irving. But at the same time he's also well aware that the true problem was even higher up than that. A captain who was too busy drinking to pay attention to his ship or his men. The leaders of the expedition arguing with each other. It means that most of Billy's annoyance isn't really aimed at the man he's sitting here at a table with.

He doesn't leave it at that, though. He doesn't just speak about the truth behind their situation back home, the bleakness of it all. His brow furrows a little as he continues. ]

But.. what makes you assume this place is the same?