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 outwardly react as the boy steps further into the room, doesn't flinch away from him, only sits there. But he doesn't stay unresponsive, at least, willing to answer Kieren. It's different from when he'd ignored Kate Marsh and Wynonna Earp — that was a conscious thing, and it had broken his heart even if he might've seemed numb and cold; oh no, it ached deeply to willingly turn his back to those calling out for him.

But now.... there isn't even the will to ignore a thing. He'll answer when asked a question, he'll give in however he must. The man's head dips down even more, chin dropping towards his chest, eyes on the wooden floor beneath his feet where he sits on the edge of the bed. When he speaks, his rich voice is hollow, a little hoarse around the edges. ]

It is all... futile. Everything.... and myself. My efforts. My... purpose.

[ He hasn't put such thoughts to verbal form, before. Not so... defined as this. But he knows how he feels, now. And he accepts it. He accepts that it has always been this way. He was just too stubborn... too hopeful, too foolish to see it. Loyal to something that no longer even existed. ]

I can do nothing for anyone.

[burying]

[ Ah, shit. It hits him like a stone. Not something sharp, but something dull and heavy. His eyes close briefly for a moment, emotion flickering over his face. It all went to shit. Like nothing mattered anymore. He knows it. Kieren's mouth forms a thin line and he shakes his head. ]

Hey, no— [ Once he's close enough, he crouches down. Careful not to crowd him, but close enough to show he's there. He keeps his voice light, even — but there's a firmness to it. ] You're... you're out there, everyday, doing patrols. I.. I don't think I ever saw you sleep when we were all camped out in the Community Hall during that storm.

[ Kieren's not joking. He actually doesn't think the man slept at all. He stayed up with Kieren all night. There were times he'd disappear downstairs into the cellar. He'd even gone out into that awful bloody storm a couple of times, too. He watches. He sticks to the edges of the world and he watches. He's noticed it all. ]

It's not for nothing. You're here. You do a lot for everyone, even if you can't see that right now. It does mean something.

[ It's not futile. And that's saying someone for 'an optimistic with depressive tendencies', as Amy put it. ]

You don't want— that. [ The gun, he means. ] Believe me, Edward. You really don't.

cw: suicidal ideation / intent

[fidior]

[ He does listen to the boy, not ignoring his words, not blocking them out, but he doesn't react much to them on the surface, just sits there unmoving. He understands everything Kieren is saying, but... he can only look back on that time with shame and loathing of himself. He thought he was doing something, thought any of it would matter. Could truly help anyone. And has it....? No. Not really. So the words only make his heart sink with the last remaining ability to feel, a stone that aches so heavily within him.

'You don't want— that.'

Kieren... understands it? The gun. What it really means. Edward finds himself surprised by that, enough to have him glancing sideways over to the young man, eyes wet and thick, mouth parted slightly as he exhales with a shuddery breath.

He hasn't intentionally... planned for it. Hasn't made any movement to take care of his things that would be left behind, leave notes for anyone, hasn't even thought about exactly how it would go. It's just crept closer and closer and closer, that idea. That concept of not existing. It's been there for a while, perhaps, and perhaps he's grown a bit used to it, some thing in the back of his mind, the thought that it would be better if he were not here at all. But now it's moved from the back of his mind and outwards, now it stands there in the corner of his room facing him, featureless but shaped just like himself.

Now it feels like the only outcome that works, for him.

But he hadn't expected anyone to really... see that it's his intent. For someone to understand that. He stares at Kieren for a few long moments, watching him through long lashes. The words come so softly that they're almost a whisper. ]

It would be better if I were not here. I....I do not want to be here anymore.

cw: themes of suicide

[burying]

[ Kieren's head drops at the words, eyes closing again. It's crushing, and he knows. He knows what it feels like to not want to be here any more. He knows what it's like when everything's so shit, and nothing else matters anymore. When it feels like the only thing you can do is just... leave. There's a strange sound in the back of his throat, strained upset and christ— it just never stops being the same, does it? It never leaves them in peace and it's not fucking fair. ]

No. It wouldn't be better. [ He exhales softly, shuddering. He shakes his head. ] See, you think it might be, but... it won't. It never is.

[ His mouth purses, and he shakes his head again. For as quiet and calm as he keeps his voice, musters as much gentleness as he can for the man — there is too much raw emotion restrained in it. Horror and sorrow and knowing. He takes another breath to steady himself out of reflex, looks up again to look at him. ]

The only difference is... that hurt you have right now? You just pass it on to the people who care about you, who you care about. [ It's what he'd done. If he hadn't come back, he'd never been able to see it for himself. What he'd done to his own family. What he'd done to his mum and dad, what he'd done to Jem. He destroyed himself and in doing so, destroyed his entire family. ] And if you go, you can't take that back. Nothing will ever let you take that back. And I don't think you're the kind of person who'd ever want to hurt someone like that.

[ Kieren wasn't. He still did it anyway. He had no idea, he didn't think about what it would mean. He only saw his own pain and a singular way of trying to get rid of it. It wasn't selfish, he wants to think. It isn't selfish to not want to be in pain, anymore. But God, he would give anything to take it back. He would give anything not to have given that pain to the people he loves. ]

Leaving— [ He swallows thickly. ] leaving... doesn't change things. It doesn't fix anything. The... the only way you can change it is by staying.

[ His mum told him that. Everything went to shit again and he didn't know what to do, didn't know how to make it better. Rick died again, and Kieren spiralled back to that place he'd been in for so long. This time, you live. You don't leave, you stay.

He says it without thinking, but maybe it's about time. Maybe it should be said now. It was a one time deal, that's all it was. And he go to come back. He got the chance to change things, even if it means there's so much he can't undo. It won't be like that for Edward. He won't get another chance. ]

Don't make the choice I did, Edward. [ He sounds so calm, the calmest he's ever been. ] You won't get to come back.

cw: continued themes of suicide

[fidior]

[ 'It wouldn't be better.'

'It never is.'

....Edward continues to stare at the younger, that discomforting dose of realisation from before now blossoming wider and wider into understanding as Kieren continues. Speaks from... knowledge, from experience. Speaks with a strain that leaks through despite the boy's efforts to keep himself collected. Edward can see it, can recognise it, something so harrowed and upset barely able to be contained. Something aching and aching like a wound needing to split open and weep.

His initial thought is that someone Kieren loves must have... done it. That he's speaking from the point of view of someone... left behind. That the experience the boy clearly has fuels these words — and they hurt to hear, to imagine, no matter how numbed down he is. The thought of passing that hurt onto others... He knows there are people here who would mourn him, no matter how poorly he thinks of himself; he knows that. But.... he thinks that in the longer run, it would be better. That they would be better off without him. Someone stronger, better, more capable would step into his place; he would no longer hold anyone back. And he deserves to die, for what things he's done, before here. He never deserved this second chance; there are others who should be here, instead. He's only a waste.

It's difficult to hear what Kieren's saying, and he's staring, staring, and then—

'Don't make the choice I did, Edward. You won't get to come back.'

The man's eyes widen slowly, startle and understanding a bizarre mixture, something so quietly gutted opening up within him. Quietly, but deeply, and this... oh, this hurts even more than he could have imagined. ]

....You.... [ His voice is soft, and sad as his eyes stay locked onto Kieren. He's so young. ]

Before here... This place... brought you back?

[ Each word feels so weighted, so heavy. He knows it's possible, somehow, for people to be..... revived here, however that may truly be. So many of the men from his world are dead there. Gibson... Goodsir... Jopson. He thinks surely he must also be. So it's not altogether surprising to hear now, but there's a growing horror at the realisation that it was a self-inflicted death, in this young man's case. ]

cw: still going with the suicide, lads; descriptions of fatal self-harm (wrist) injuries

[burying]

No. Not here. [ Ah. There it is. The Lieutenant's realised, put two and two together. Kieren's mouth is a tight-lipped smile for a moment, weak and strained. He shakes his head, though. This place didn't bring him back, no. But Kieren does wonder what it has done to him in his time here. The fact he exists, like he does now, without medication — the gnawing hunger that swells in his stomach that he tries so hard to push down and make small. ]

I died. My family... buried me. [ He didn't want to be buried. He wanted to be cremated. But his family buried him and that's... just how it is. ] I just remember... relief, and then the next thing I know I'm waking up in my grave. I came back, but... not fully.

[ There's a pause and he swallows hard. He looks wounded as his gaze drops. After a few beats, he moves to pull off his gloves, revealing the ashen skin of his hands, the nails rimmed with black at the cuticles. Then, he slowly moves to push back both his sleeves: the pale, almost grey skin continues until he turns his forearms to show him the underside.

On each wrist, a jagged black wound, carefully sewn. By the undertaker, he suspects. Whoever dutifully cared for his body afterward had done a good with the stitches. But they're wounds that'll never heal. It's just as well it's so cold here. But even then, he'd keep them covered in all weathers. The reminder of what he'd done. ]

I'm... only partially alive. A freak act of nature, a one-time event. Something impossible made possible.

[ He doesn't dare speak of everything else. The things he did when he came back. He suspects Edward may draw his own connections and conclusions, from the things Kieren's told him. How he exists in a precarious position: half alive, without medication, in danger of hurting others, becoming unlike himself.

Kieren's lips purse, his voice quiet but steady as he continues. He glances down at his wrists, remembering the feeling of the metal against flesh. How unnatural such a thing was and yet felt entirely natural to him at the time, how fragile his body was. His dad bought him the Swiss army knife for his eighteenth birthday. He suspects it lies forgotten somewhere, perhaps in an evidence box in some police station. ]

Everything had gone to shit. Nothing mattered anymore. And I just thought— well, I dunno what I was thinking. [ His head dips again and there's a slight shake. ] I just... I couldn't change it. And I just... didn't want to hurt anymore.

[ Rick was dead. Nothing would change that, and Kieren just.... stopped caring. Stopping living, long before he decides to leave. There was no keeping the two of them alive in his head, as much as he wanted to. ]

But... when I came back, I realised what I'd done. I— I broke my family. My mum, dad, my baby sister. And— I can never take that back. And... maybe I can never make that right, but I know that if I stay this time — I can try. I can change things. Even when I'm like this.

[ Some half-dead thing that he struggles with being every day. Sometimes he has days when it's not so bad. Sometimes there's days when it's unbearable. He still can't look at himself in the mirror without his cover-up on, too frightened and ashamed of what it'll look like. Kieren's quiet for a moment, considering. He knows a little about what went on back in Edward's world. Stuff from Hickey. Men were starving and sick in the middle of the frozen nowhere. It feels like some sort of sick joke that they're all stuck here, still in the frozen nowhere. But they're not sick and starving, at least. It's... something good, in their favour. ]

You can try to make things right, Edward. [ There's a gentle firmness to his voice. ] If you leave now, that's it. No more trying, no seeing how things might work out. I don't know how we all came here, but maybe for you— it's a second chance. You get to try again.

And.. it won't be the same, and it's maybe never going to be easy and.... [ He heaves out a sigh. ] sometimes it's really shit — but you get to try. It's not futile to try. You being here isn't for nothing. And you're worth it, to give yourself another shot — even if sometimes you... can't see that for yourself.

[fidior]

[ There's a particular horror to the thought of being... revived. What Edward doesn't know is that this place isn't actually capable of such a thing — that those rotting men here had been brought in just before or right at the moment of their deaths — but for all intents and purposes, it seems that this place has resurrected them, pulled them back to life. And as grateful as he has been for the opportunity to be able to see them again, to speak — to apologise — and to protect them (better this time, he has to do better), there has been a deep upset to the concept, as well. That men who had finally found the peace of death (however horrifically the moments leading up to their last breaths had been) are now doomed to continue wandering, suffering.

But Kieren says.... it happened before. Before here. How... is that possible? But then, so many strange things are, apparently in many of their worlds. He sits, listening, breathing slow and unsteady.

It seems that even in the boy's world, such a.... miracle (is that the right word for it?) is rare, however. A one-time event. Something impossible made possible.

"partially alive"

Indeed, there are connections drawn — from the moment he'd met the younger man, desperate to find a medicine to keep himself... tamed, to so many of his interactions with Kieren (so desperate, even, that he would chain himself to the wall through the night, so terrified by the thought of harming someone...)

Is it connected...? It has to be. But right now Kieren's telling him how nothing mattered anymore and that he didn't want to hurt anymore and all of it is so familiar, and to hear that this boy had faced such feelings... He bows his head for a moment, dark eyes fixed to the wooden floor beneath his feet. He cannot imagine how it would be, to come back, to be faced with those people one had left behind, to face— guilts, perhaps judgments. It's all almost too horrific to comprehend, and he sits there quietly in his own horror for a long while, swallowing this information down slowly, piece by piece.

He has thought of this place as a second chance, in some ways. Not necessarily for his own good, but— a second chance to protect those he'd failed to protect before. And others, people trapped and suffering in various ways here in this strange cold land with terrors constantly in threat of creeping across the threshold.

...But he still continues to fail. He'd failed La'an. People are dying here, and he knows he's ultimately helpless to do anything to stop that, just like before. He's finally lifting his head to meet the boy's wide-eyed gaze, this boy who has been through such literal hells and has been carrying the weight of them all this time. Kieren has always seemed so heavy, to be holding onto something, pressed down by the weight of it. If only he'd known just how much it was...

Finally, Edward finds words, though they come quiet and hoarsely, wounded, blinking against thick moisture that glosses his eyes. ]

I am.... deeply sorry for what you have suffered, Mr. Walker. That you have such wisdom now... to know what they have been borne from... and what burdens you carry. My heart is so very heavy.

[ There is... much to say. To address. His hands slowly come together in his lap, fingers worrying against each other. The gun stays where it is, but he doesn't move any closer to it.

'It's not futile to try.' ]

....I... do not want to give up trying. Even out on the ice, I thought it important that we continue. To be good, decent men, despite our circumstances. To try to help one another, to remain honest and true. But.... it did nothing. I could help no one. All of my men perished, so... gruesomely. I have never witnessed such human suffering.

[ He blinks again, wider, gives a soft, shaky exhale of breath as he tries to steady himself. ]

And here, now... with the death of Lieutenant Noonien-Singh, and.... people are still suffering.... It feels as though such things are doomed to repeat. That I will spend the rest of my days watching those I care for, those who rely on me, suffer, again and again.

[ Perhaps that's what he deserves. To continue to exist, to watch everyone around him fade away. But it's such a painful thought. With the presence of that shadowed twin, pressing his own misery in on him, the idea of it is unbearable.

....But Kieren reminds him. Hearing someone else say such things aloud, reminding him, grounding him, fighting through that odd suffocating haze. Edward doesn't think he's worth it, not him. But those he cares about here... they are worth it. Worth the misery and the fear. Even if he may lose them all, he cannot abandon them prematurely. He has to keep trying to protect them, in whatever ways he can. He knows this up underneath everything else, dips his head again, ashamed, feeling smaller than he ever has as he feels the thick moisture in his eyes well up and spill over, teardrops landing upon his lap. ]

...But I cannot leave you all. Abandon you. I know I cannot, as difficult as it may be to watch your suffering.

[burying]

[ He's sorry for him. Sorry for what Kieren's suffered, for the things he's been through. He knows about Rick dying, and now he knows about how he died, too. And he's sorry for it. Kieren exhales softly, a weak smile at his lips — soft and sad as his head dips a little.

If there was any wisdom out of him, it would be his Mum to thank for that. She's the one who had to point it out to him. He thinks of that it with the utmost fondest, and it makes him want to laugh a little. He has so much to thank his mother for. There's regret there, too. He only wished he'd reached out the first time. Maybe it would have stopped all of this from happening. There's a whole lot of 'maybes' and 'what ifs'. But this is what it is, and there's no changing that. He can only change what's ahead of him. ]

I... I can't imagine what any of that must have been like. For any of you out there. [ He's heard bits and pieces of it, here and there. Stuff from Cornelius. Something about a bear-god. But... yeah, it was a pretty horrifically shit time, all around. ] But it's not the same. This place isn't the same, even if it might seem like it's history repeating itself.

[ There's things here out to kill them. There's wildlife driven mad; a monstrous being trying to chase after them and eat them, trying to get into their minds and drive them to their own ends. They're trapped in this place, in the cold. But it's not the same. They're not starving, they're better prepared. There's game and there's someone out there trying to help them, too. The woman. It doesn't have to be like how it was on the ships, in the ice. It can be different this time. And if he chooses to stay, he can make that happen. Kieren's sure of that. ]

And.. even now you have something you didn't have before. You've done this before, you know where you might have gone wrong. You can do things differently. And... honestly, that's pretty amazing.

[ He knows it might not help what's already happened. This place is... too much. He didn't know La'an personally, but he remembered her from the start of all of this. Remembered seeing her on patrol. He notices people. Watches them from the edges of his self-imposed distance. They're up against shitty, impossible things. And there's not changing La'an's death, or making it any better. But it doesn't mean all's lost, either.

Very carefully, he reaches forwards with one of his hands towards the Lieutenant's worrying ones in his lap. He gently lays his hand on top of his, offering a slight squeeze. Kieren knows his hands are cold, and he's sorry for that. But he lets his hand rest there. ]

You can't stop suffering, Edward. But you can be there for people, you can be with them through it. It's a lot to ask anyone to do. It hurts to watch the people we care about suffer. But you know what? Sometimes... just being there for someone else? That makes the suffering a little less shit for them.

[ There's a tiny wince: sorry for the swearing, he knows you're a Victorian gentleman. ]

And... that's so worth it. Just making things a tiny bit better. It's always worth it.