bad luck, old sport

[goingtobeunwell]

Who: Francis Crozier and OTA
What: Uh oh, more bad luck for Milton's other resident old man!
When: Throughout February
Where: Crozier's igloo, the town and the outskirts, the basin

Content Warnings: The Terror AMC™'s specific flavor of horror -- possible mentions of cannibalism, starvation, illness, murder, gore, addiction, Victorians

Comments

Night Watch

[goingtobeunwell]

Sleep evades him after the discovery of La'an's body. Crozier takes to wandering at night, though his aim isn't to patrol the town or prevent any harmful creatures from disturbing the relative peace of the homes. He's guilt-stricken, restless, and the anxiety from what could be makes him feel unwell.

Most nights he sits in the graveyard, his back tucked against an old stone with faded names, caribou fur tucked between his knees as he sews with a bone needle and sinew. Next to his thigh in the snow is stuck his knife, ready to be grabbed and wielded if the worst were to ever befall him.

He waits for what he hopes will never come. Hickey expects that their little attempt at forming a civilization will fall apart, and when it does he'll be there to take advantage of the desperation and chaos. La'an, a virtual stranger, deserves better than to become food for a lunatic who isn't even starving yet.

[solitarysoul]

While Levi spends part of the night at the community hall, his patrols don't cease after the sun goes down. The night was probably more dangerous than the day with wolves around, anyway. He spots Crozier as he passes the graveyard and pauses for a moment before moving towards the other man.

"Did you know her?" He assumes La'an must be why the man is here. People didn't often hang out in the graveyard, especially at night.

[goingtobeunwell]

The soft crunching of the snow underfoot alerts him to another person’s presence. His spine straightens until he recognizes the figure, and he slumps back with an exhale of frozen breath.

“Not as such,” he tells him quietly. It’s a quiet place, and Crozier doesn’t wish to disturb the peace. “We met once.”

At his arrival, in fact, during the great feast. “Did you know her?”

[solitarysoul]

He raises an eyebrow at how Crozier reacts to his arrival. Hm.

"Not really. We only talked like once or twice. But she was here from the start, so I recognized her." He had liked her, when they spoke. She seemed pretty capable.

"We're you expecting trouble? I don't think I've seen wolves or whatever hang out around here."

[goingtobeunwell]

He doesn’t want to say why he believes there’ll be trouble, but it’s been nearly three months and he’s kept so much of his anxieties close to his chest. Perhaps there’s a way he can hint at his troubles.

“My worry is more about people than it is animals.” People can paw at bodies too.

[castitas]

Sometimes there is too much sleep, other times there is too little. The last month has been exhausting and there's some days she can't even get up from her cot in the Community Hall. The thoughts she hears of others, sometimes the most terrible of things, and even her own broadcast for everyone to hear. The low spirits of so many people around her. It's been far worse since La'an died, even if Kate didn't even know the woman personally. Edward Little doesn't even come to see her these days, it's been about a week now, and wouldn't even open the door to her.

It's no surprise when sleep won't come.

It's too late for her to be out, but Kate figures if there's some place she might find solace — Milton church would be it. She's bundled up against the cold, a storm lantern in hand — lifting it up to pick out as much as she can. Churchyards are spooky in the dark... and spookier still as it picks out the form of a person among the graves. And it's someone she recognises, after a few beats.

"... Mr Crozier?" she's... not sure what to call him. Lieutenant Little still calls him Captain, but well— she's not heard anyone else. 'Mr Crozier' seems best. She steps through the snow carefully, mindful of the graves.

"You couldn't sleep?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier's been nodding off here and there, but wakes when he hears the crunching of ice and snow underfoot. Kate emerges from the darkness with her lantern like some sort of beacon, a little angelic in her delicate-looking appearance underneath her winter clothes.

"No," he calls back to her. He coughs quietly into his hand. "No, I couldn't sleep. Neither could you, I take it."

[castitas]

Kate's mouth is a thin line, she shakes her head.

"Not really, no." she says quietly. "I guess this last month, there's a lot of reasons to sleep too much, and to not sleep at all. Not sleeping at all won, this time."

She stops short of him, crouching down to sit and placing her lantern on the ground. She looks about them. Yeah, it's... kinda spooky, even if the quiet is nice.

"Why... sit out here?"

[goingtobeunwell]

What some find frightening others might find...refreshing. Comforting even. His eyes glance around the graveyard, all the silence of the dead, and thinks about how best to answer her without sounding like a damn maniac.

"A fear that the dead won't be able to rest."

[guidemyway]

While Ruby was the type to go out and do nightly patrols, she'd be lying if she tried to play it off as though La'an's passing was not one of the reasons she was out and about now. It had been rough to witness the aftermath, obviously not only for her but for everyone in town. It just left her feeling a little helpless when she put so much pressure to keep people safe on her shoulders.

A couple nights pass and she notices Crozier hanging around the graveyard, but chooses not to go over and talk. She'd rather leave him to his mourning if that's what he needs to do. On the third night that she spots him there she gathers up the courage to approach.

She gives a little wave before glancing up at the sky sheepishly.

"Nice enough night, huh? I mean all considering."

[goingtobeunwell]

Mourning may just be the right word to describe the reason for his vigil. He's mourning La'an, whatever innocence that may have remained here in this small community before her tragic death, but also his own who he was never able to bury. It's all tied together in one horrible knot around his heart.

He raises his hand to greet her in return. He hopes that she's just a little anxious, and that he's not frightening anyone away that he doesn't mean to.

"The sky's clear." He looks up at the black sky. "Nice night to watch the stars."

[guidemyway]

Ruby manages a half hearted smile when he raises the hand. She had been a little worried she was interrupting something personal, but her shoulders relax just a touch.

"Yeah. It is." She takes a few more steps in closing the distance between the two of them before her silver eyes shift up toward the sky.

"It's a little weird how things can be so quiet after something terrible happens. ...Like the world just didn't realize it happened."

[goingtobeunwell]

"The earth keeps spinning," he says with a nod. "Whether it seems like it should mourn along with us or not."

He remembers how he felt when he lost one particular man. It had changed him, but the world around him was still as harsh and unforgiving and painful as it ever was.

"It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

[salamanca]

The sight of another man wandering the town at night catches Lalo's attention. Whole lotta night owls in this town, he can't help but notice. It's not a bad thing, but he's not used to it; usually, he's the only weirdo up at this time of night.

Lalo's aim is simple: he wants to think, plan his next moves, get to know his new surroundings in relative peace and quiet. He's not used to the biting cold, though, and the darkness of his surroundings has made him uneasy, simply because he's aware of how dangerous it is to be wandering around in the dark.

Well. Dangerous for other people, maybe. Lalo isn't worried about himself. He can handle anything. Still, he carries a handmade torch for safety, a small controlled fire blazing atop a young green branch, the orangey glow bobbing into Crozier's sight before Lalo gets close, illuminating Lalo's face and shoulders.

"Hey there!" he calls out cheerily. "Another night owl, eh?"

[goingtobeunwell]

It's not the gentle glow of a lantern but something with the kind of reach that dances and casts long shadows, the light of a fire, that catches Crozier's eye. He climbs to his feet as the stranger with fire approaches, single hand raising to greet him.

"Of a sort," he calls back to him. "I'm beginning to see there are more of us awake than asleep at this time of night."

They're all anxious and restless. He can't say he blames them.

[salamanca]

Lalo nods along with that, like he understands. He's still visibly injured; the pain in his arm reminds him. Despite that, his mannerisms are easy, calm, unbothered. A sharp contrast to Cozier's restlessness.

"You're tellin' me," he says. "Back home, I used to be the only one awake this time of night. Not here. It's like we live in a town full of vampires, eh?" He chuckles at his own joke, and it seems like he clearly expects Crozier to find it funny, too.

"How about you? Were you always a night owl? Or only here?"

[goingtobeunwell]

He would love to find it funny, but unfortunately he has no fucking clue what a vampire is or why they'd be overrun with them. He does give Lalo a good-natured smile, because despite choosing a hermit's lifestyle he's perfectly capable of being social when the occasion calls for it.

"I barely slept at home," he explains, gesturing to the surrounding darkness. "The constant night and then endless sun tends to destroy one's natural sleep cycle."

But they have some time before sets in. Too bad there are monsters here too, which would definitely cause some sleepless nights.

"It does seem like the aurora brought a lot of prowlers to this village."

oh look a peepaw to bother

[eighteenhalflives]

It's true that scavengers are wont to prowl at night, and sometimes under the guise of patrolling. There's one at the edges of the graveyard right now, lingering out of curiosity piqued by notice of the man's presence. People visit the grave often, that's not unusual, but someone sitting alone through the night the way Crozier has been...Tobi finds himself wandering back every so many minutes to check if he's still there. And then closer, wondering if he fell asleep or if something more unfortunate has happened.

Though his steps are light the dog at his heel makes enough noise for both of them - trotting through the snow and occasionally bounding around him in an excited circle before taking off in some other direction; a wayward scent has Dogmeat distracted briefly as Tobi finally approaches Crozier.

"Isn't it kind of cold to be napping out here?"

Not the most polite greeting, but there's a touch of honest concern in his tone.

always room for one more at peepaw's graveside melancholy party!

[goingtobeunwell]

There's no offense taken. Crozier sits up a little straighter and pulls his hood back ever-so-slightly to make eye contact easier...and to make it clear he's not out here freezing half to death.

"You've never had to bivouac?"

[eighteenhalflives]

Eye contact, in as much as that can happen when one party is wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. Tobi knows he doesn't need to worry about people getting nervous about his mutation, here, when there are plenty of other weirdos from even weirder worlds...but he can't quite bring himself to shed that extra layer of security until he really needs to. He hates feeling unlucky.

There's a moment of silence where his surprise and lack of immediate familiarity with the word plays across his face; he needs to think for a second about what it means, where he's heard it before.

Then he says, "I'm gonnna be honest, I grew up underground. And even topside it's not like it isn't easy to find a place, or make something temporary."

There are a lot of old buildings in the capital, and the winters aren't exactly like this. Something playful in his tone when he adds:

"I've never just rolled up in a jacket in the snow."

[goingtobeunwell]

Grew up underground? That's a new one. He can honestly say in all his long years he's never heard of someone growing up strictly underground, and he currently lives in a dome made of ice.

Crozier climbs to his feet with a soft grunt. Damned creaky bones.

"It isn't the most pleasant experiences, but it works. I'm not napping though, no."

A beat.

"You grew up underground?"

uh oh

[goingtobeunwell]

It starts out small – a seam on his tunic rips, he loses his snow knife somewhere outside of town, an animal gets into one of his traps and leaves behind massive-looking prints in the snow. It gets worse as the daylight starts to make a slow reappearance, a pathetic, little cold leaves him coughing and sniffling, he falls on the ice like an amateur after ice fishing, and he forgets where he’d found a plentiful stash of mushrooms.

But the worst of it comes on a particularly windy night. He'd been strategic when he’d picked the spot for the ice-house, far enough from the houses and roads, tucked up along a hill but not too close to the trees, hidden away to avoid predators. But even with all his precautions and care, in the middle of this windy night a wayward tree branch snaps off from his trunk and finds its way right on top of his igloo’s domed roof.

The impact is enough to destabilize the roof, and down comes the blocks of ice on top of the slumbering Francis Crozier.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju doesn't like going out at night. The cold is bitter and awful and he still hasn't gotten used to it, and the dark, on nights the sky here is dark in the way it should be, reminds him uncomfortably of home. His real home, before Delhi. Away from the city and its electricity and constant light. But it's impossible to sleep through dreams when there's no way to exhaust himself first, nothing to do, nothing to move toward except more firewood, or laundry, or more writing about how little he still knows about anything, and he'd woken up and couldn't stand any of it, the same few routines again and again and again, not for another second. He thinks he might be out here now only for something to fight, something to point himself toward hating, the bitter cold an enemy that, at least, he knows how to face and understand.

So the noise is— not welcome, exactly. But the alertness that goes through Raju when he hears it is welcome. He's sewn another pocket into the blanket over him just large enough to hold a loop to hold his knife, and he wraps his fingers around it now. The knife isn't large enough to be much good in any fight that isn't very close quarters, but it's what he has— and it turns out Raju won't need it anyway. There's no horrific presence here, no wildlife, unless something's hiding in the dark. The moonlight doesn't reveal much. He can see, at least, the huge branch fallen on... something. The something must have been a shelter, for all it's made out of ice and snow, clear that it's been built and shaped on purpose in the places its roof hasn't been knocked in.

Raju lets go of the knife, but hurries forward. Someone would have to be simple, wouldn't they, to sleep inside something made of ice when it's already so damned cold. But assuming instead of finding out isn't going to help anyone. "Hello!" he calls out as he makes his way closer, in case some unfortunate actually is there. "Anyone in there! Are you hurt?"

[goingtobeunwell]

The sudden collapse of his otherwise very sturdy igloo startles Crozier awake, but there’s no saving himself from the onslaught. He’s trapped in his bed, his caribou and wolf blankets the only things keeping the bricks of ice from burying him alive right then and there.

If he twists he can move an arm through the debris, but that leaves his bare, mangled wrist exposed to the bitterly-cold air. He measures whether the risk is worth it and then hears —

Somebody’s there! He knows that voice.

“Help! Help! I’m pinned!” He doesn’t know if they can hear him through the ice, he can feel the heavy bricks bearing down onto his cheek and neck.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju's eyes widen at the voice, the familiar accent, and his eyes widen as he hurries toward what might have been the shelter's entrance, once—

—but no longer, the fallen ceiling is blocking that too, and Raju calls out quick and matter of fact as he feels over the outer wall of the thing, finds it too close to smooth to climb and just barely too tall to jump over. "I'll have you out in a moment. How bad is it?"