singillatim | open-ish | the... sailor fight....

[ It's an otherwise quiet day. After the feast, the Community Hall falls into a bit of a lull as new Interlopers find their own places to stay. There's a few who stay in the Hall permanently, and people drop by — so there's always people around and always things to do.

Kate busies herself in the kitchen, making up a canister of hot tea for anyone who drops by to help themselves to if they'd like to. A small thing to keep herself occupied from all her thoughts — there's been too many of them, lately.

She looks up at the sound of footsteps, only for her face to fall at who it is that steps into the kitchen. Out of everyone in Milton, Mr Hickey's the last person she wants to see. Not after learning the things he's done. She's done well enough to stay away from him, but... it's unfortunately a small town.

There's a long moment where she doesn't want to acknowledge him, turning her attention away. Only he's brought something, putting it down on one of the counters and lingering. Kate's eyes close briefly and she can't go on ignoring him any longer because he's just... not going away, is he?

So she keeps her voice mild, even if it's a little cold: ]

... Can I help you, Mr Hickey?

[ Please say no and kindly go away. ]

Edited 2024-02-11 23:01 (UTC)

[ Edward Little told Kate Marsh if Cornelius Hickey ever spoke to her again, then she had to come tell him. She didn't think it would ever come to it, with the two of them avoiding one another for the most part — but unfortunately it was one of those things that just couldn't stick. Downsides of living in a small, isolated town of like... seventy people, give or take.

She'd ran out on Hickey after their 'conversation', spooked into the snow and she'd only stopped for a moment to remember what she's supposed to do. The Lieutenant's words coming to mind: 'If he... says anything to you again, or if you feel threatened by him in any way, unsafe, you must inform me. You must come to me, if he speaks to you again. No matter the hour. Please.'

But she doesn't find him out on the streets of Milton as she runs through the snow, anyone she asks hasn't seen him and she doesn't stop to explain further. She tries his cabin, and finds it empty — out for the day. There's only one other place she can think of. He'd told her that he occasionally visits Mr Jopson, so she goes there next — hoping that he's there.

She scrambles up onto the porch, exhausted from all the running as the adrenaline finally wears thin. She was never that good in gym class. ]

M-Mr Jopson—? Are y-you there—? [ She knocks on the door frantically, calling out with chattering teeth. ] It's Kate M-Marsh? Is— Is Lieutenant Little there—?

[ When the door is opened, there's an out of breath and shivering teenager on his porch: unhurt, but visibly shaken and tearful and lacking a coat in this weather. She didn't even think to grab one. ]

Edited 2024-02-11 23:15 (UTC)

[ It's easy enough to smoke meat. To dry it out, make something close to jerky. And isn't Hickey nice? Isn't he useful? Don't you want him to help?

He's made his way to the community center to bring some food because again, he's useful, when he spots Kate. Lord how Hickey doesn't like that girl. But he can put his ire to the side for a moment. ]

I've got some goods for the community stores. Any idea where they're kept?

[Thomas has his mending to do when he hears the knock and the urgency behind it. He immediately abandons it, tossing the blanket to the side, opening the door before she can get her name out.]

Good lord, Miss Marsh. Come in, come in, he inside. What were you thinking, walking out with no coat?

[He can't help the hint of scolding in an otherwise worried tone, removing his own coat to wrap over her shoulders.]

[ He's adding to the stores? Kate's mouth is a thin line. ]

Some... cupboards there. [ He motions to them. ] Some stuff we keep downstairs in the basement.

[ There's a beat before she adds: ]

I thought you were concentrating on keeping your own place stocked up with plenty of stuff, anyway.

[ People not taking him up on his offer of food? Not all that surprising. ]

I can do both, [ said with a little shrug. ]

Besides, look at the people here. They'll need all the help they can get.

[ She doesn't even look at him, a mix of fear and disgust and anxiousness all rolled into one. She knows what he's done. The harm he's caused, the unspeakable acts he's committed. ]

We're doing just fine without you, Mr Hickey.

[ She keeps her tone mild, even. But even then there's a little bit of a snippiness to it, as much as she tries to be careful. ]

... Besides, I thought you wanted people to rely on themselves.

[ Hadn't he said something along those lines? ]

[ Something's up. Kate feels...different. She's not even bothering to make eye contact.

Idly, he can't help but wonder if she's been talking to someone. And what they've been telling her. ]

Obviously we all need to look out for ourselves. After all, we can only keep us and our own alive in the end. But I'm not cruel. I can share my bounty.

[ Edward hears the knock too, as loud and insistent as it is, sitting up from where he was seated in a chair near the fire, reading a book he'd borrowed from the library that was set up in town not long ago. Thomas is ever-quick to take care of matters, and Edward watches the other man rush off, moving to set his book down and stand, following along a little more cautiously than the other.

But when he hears a familiar voice, he's hurrying forward to see Thomas ushering Kate Marsh in, brows lifting at once as he takes in the young woman, draped in the other man's coat. His alarm immediately blossoms, fretful. ]

Miss Marsh—? What's wrong? Are you all right?

[ 'But I'm not cruel.'

Something in her jaw tightens, her stomach knots tightly. She can already feel heat in her palms, her heart skipping a few beats in its anxiousness. The word slips out before she can stop herself: ]

Liar.

[ Mr Hickey is a liar. ]

You can stop playing pretend, I know exactly what kinda man you are.

I—I'm sorry, I didn't— [ Didn't think. She didn't think to grab anything, she just bolted. And she accepts the gentle scolding without protest. But the warmth of his home is a welcome one and she nods in thanks, despite her state, at the coat draped over her shoulders.

Her eyes are searching for the Lieutenant as she's ushered inside, and there's relief at the sight of him. She's doing what she's told, she came to find him right away. ]

You told me to— [ She's breathing hard, trying to catch her breath from all the running, her teeth still chattering. ] You told me to, if he ever—

—he came to the Community Hall.

[ Little, yeah?

He doesn't know who else would tell her this.

Hickey still keeps that smirk of a smile on his face as he calmly asks, ]

And what sort of man do you think I am?

Not think, I know. And I know you're the kind of man who would never help anybody out of the goodness of his own heart.

[ Kate exhales, a short sound. Her gaze shifts to side-eye him. ]

Egotistical. Treacherous. Mutineer. A man responsible for the deaths of innocent people. [ Does she really need to go on? ]

Cannibal.

[ He doesn't regret it. Hickey doesn't regret any of it. This is just someone telling Kate their side of the story, Little or Jopson or both poisoning the well.

Like they always would.

Because those cowards would hold onto their morals even in death. ]

Better a murderer than a suicide. They go to hell for that, yeah? Poor Harry Goodsir, roasting down below with the rest of them.

[ He doesn't mind being the bad guy. He doesn't mind breaking her heart. She obviously knows too much already. ]

Course, I'm not the only cannibal in the lot.

Edited (Words) 2024-02-12 02:57 (UTC)

[ Kate stiffens at the mention of Mr Goodsir. Oh, she knows what he did. She knows. And it hurts her so much. ]

Don't you dare talk about Mr Goodsir. [ There's a fierceness there, head turning to look at him. She's breathing hard, but there's anger in her eyes. ] He's a better man than you could ever dream of being—!

[ How cheap of him to talk about Hell. ]

Yeah, I'm sure you dragged your group of Mutineers into it with you.

[Clearly there's something he's missing, but Thomas does what he does best. He disappears into the shadows, silently bustling around the abandoned kitchen, carrying a bit of tea to the fire to warm.

He keeps his attention on them, of course, but as he tidies his little area, as he picks up the blankets and the searches for his dropped needle, he can't help but be worried.]

He slit his own wrists because he's a coward. Because the idea of doing what was needed to stay alive went against his morals. As if morality matters to the starving.

[ That's not the main point he wants to make. Instead, he continues with. ]

If you're blaming me for eating from Goodsir, for not wasting a resource in front of me, then blame Crozier as well. He ate from the man himself.

Shut up. You don't get to talk to about him, you don't deserve to talk about him. You think he's a coward? I think you're full of bullshit.

[ Oh, yeah. She's heard it before: practicality over morals. How little morals mean to him. He's... he's gross— a vile, Godless—

Her face falls a little, frozen in some state between her anger and stun.

She didn't know that.

Mr Crozier had told her what he'd done to his second-in-command— she didn't know what had happened to Mr Goodsir after—

She takes a half-step back, a tiny shake of her head. ]

No.

I'm not lying, [ Hickey says, with a little shrug. There's something that might be a hint of a smile as he points out, ]

Goodsir knew what he was doing. Why d'you think he slit his wrists instead of taking a gun and blowing his brains out? He knew that he'd be offering himself up for food—and that someone else would have to do the butchery this time.

[ It's cold, it's harsh, it's cruel, but it's all said in a matter of fact tone. You want to play games, Kate? You want to call him a cannibal? Then you get to hear what happened, piece by piece, detail by details. What Hickey knows is going to happen here in the end. ]

But yeah. Crozier ate from Goodsir as well. He had the pick of the man's body but settled for a sliver of his heel.

You made him? You made him do it—?! [ Someone else would have to do the butchery this time. There's horror and anger. Even as her breath quickens, grows shallower, she's angry in her upset. Her eyes are wet as she speaks. ] You didn't even have the guts to do it yourself, you're... you're pathetic.

[ Her face screws up, she shakes her head. ]

I doubt it would matter to you what he did. You would have done it either way.

[ There's a pause. She remembers the memory. The one that Goodsir had accidentally shared with her: poison. Realisation flickers in her face, the thought slipping from her mind and into his: 'Oh, God. Oh, God, did he—'

She exhales, stops herself. ]

You probably made Mr Crozier do that, too. [ Her stomach curls. ] Is that how you work, Mr Hickey? You make people do things they don't want to because you can't get it to work for you any other way?

Nah, [ he says, with a little chuckle. ] Crozier ate of his free will.

[ He takes a few steps closer to Kate, looking her over, a calculating expression in his eyes that barely hides the irritation. ]

You're casting plenty of stones for someone who's never suffered. I don't make people do anything. I make an offer, they take it. Because d'you know what the other option back home was? Death.

[ He stares Kate down before asking, ]

Do you know what scurvy is like? The first thing that happens is you bleed. Every wound you had opens up. Doesn't matter how old, doesn't matter how healed, if it left a scar? It starts to bleed. Your gums bleed also. Your hairline. The pain starts next. It feels like your body is run through with glass or pierced by a thousand needles.

[ And Hickey is just getting started, more than ready to tell Kate all the messy details he can think of. ]

I don't believe you, not for one second.

[ She knows he lies. Of course he's lying about this. ]

You don't know anything about me, and you're— you're so cringe for thinking you do. [ Like, gosh. Thinking he knows it all. He doesn't know anything ] Of course, you're making them. Because they realise that they don't matter to you, you don't care about anyone but yourself.

You think you're a god, but you're nothing but a Godless jerk.

[ She shrinks back a little as he stares her down, despite herself. At the end of the day, Hickey is a grown man, and a dangerous one at that. The descriptions are nauseating, and awful — but she shakes her head. She won't hear it. ]

And— and you know what you did? You... you ate them. You ate men, dying of Scurvy. Of Lead Poisoning. All you did is helped kill yourself far quicker. Congratulations, Mr Hickey. You won.

[ hey what the fuck does cringe mean

Hickey raises an eyebrow before pointing out, doing a poor job of hiding the anger in his voice, ]

The next thing that happens is everything hurts. Your joints, your mind, even something as simple as the sun. You can't walk, can barely string together a sentence. It's a nasty way to go. And the only thing that even seemed to help is meat. Not toughing it out, not morality, not God and all his fucking useless angels on high. Meat. So I took what I could get.

You sit there and moralize but all I'm guilty of is trying to keep me and mine alive. And they're going to have to make that choice here sooner than you realize.

[ she's not telling him what it means, wow you're even more cringe, Mr Hickey

But the anger in him is... spooking her a little and she shrinks back a little. Her voice trembles a little as she speaks: fear, running on adrenaline, and horror. But he says it, he says exactly it. ]

We aren't even people to you. You used those men like they weren't even people. [ Just meat, and the thought haunts her. He did that to Mr Goodsir, made him butcher other dead men and then butchered him when he made his choice. ]

You're guilty of more than that, don't even lie. And you tried, and you couldn't even get it right. [ Her point still stands. Eating sick and dying people isn't exactly the best idea — you're only filling yourself with more lead. ] You just made everything worse for everyone. You suck at surviving.

It's not gonna happen again.

open-ish | the... sailor fight....

— cornelius hickey + kate marsh

— kate marsh + thomas jopson + edward little

— FIGHT TIME

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just cw cannibalism for the rest of this thread

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the dots... she is connecting them...

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