I'd sit there and look at the deserted lakes and I'd sing

[singmod]

MARCH 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — EXIT STRATEGY: With the way via the main road a no-go, Methuselah finds a potential and very dangerous way out of the Milton area: the Milton Mines. During the Aurora, the Interlopers must find a way to safely navigate the mines and find a way through.

PROMPT TWO — BRAVE NEW WORLD: Interlopers make their way into the Lakeside area, and are free to explore the more of the Northern Territories: a place of both industry and leisure.

PROMPT THREE — THE ECHO: On Aurora nights, the aftermath of the Darkwalker's attack on the Interlopers continues to ripple through the community — with a painful affliction.

EXIT STRATEGY

WHEN: Mid-month.
WHERE: Milton Mines.
CONTENT WARNINGS: claustrophobic situations; potential injury/maiming; potential electrocution/electrocution injuries; potential burn injuries; hyperthermic situations; exploration horror;


Unusually, Methuselah returns to the town around the middle of the month. He is looking pleased and will ask that the Interlopers gather in the Community Hall. Once gathered, he climbs onto the small stage at one end of the Hall and explains that following last month’s Feast, he set out to try to find a way out of Milton, and he believes he may have found a way out.

He goes on to explain that although the Milton Mine has been closed for many years, there may still be access through the mine. The mine had two entrances through either sides of the stone, one on the Milton side since many of the residents worked the mine back in the day, but there was also an additional entrance on the opposite side, which led to a railway track that allowed easier export of coal and precious materials towards the coast. Having gained access, he believes the mine seems to mostly remain intact, but not easy to get through. However, he discovered that during the Aurora, the old mine and its electronics came to life — meaning a way through is certainly possible during those times with the added electronics in play.

It is not much, and it is certainly incredibly dangerous, but it is something. There is certainly no way out towards the south; towards the north might be the Interlopers’ best chance of finding a way out of Milton.

Methuselah will ask for any volunteers to join him in trying to find a way out via the mines, taking them up north and then waiting for an Aurora to happen before they can then make their way through and explore the mine system. Anyone is free to sign up, and he suggests someone drawing up a sign up sheet so that Interlopers have an idea of who is leaving the town on the journey.

The hike towards the mines is a long one, taking a few hours on an incline to reach the northern mountains. Waiting on the Aurora may take time, so setting up camp is the next step — waiting for night and hoping the skies fill with night soon. Interlopers are free to explore the mine beforehand, but will find a lot of it locked up tight. With areas unreachable without power and the darkness suffocating, they won’t get very far.

When the Aurora does finally come, the mine will come to life: the system’s lighting will come on throughout, albeit flickering and a little unreliable. Machinery and track systems whir and groan as the mine slowly cranks itself into functioning once more. While there are maps of the system to help Interlopers navigate the system — showing a second entrance labelled as ‘Lakeside Entrance’ — the true difficulty in getting through lies in wait.

Interlopers will find that parts of the system have been partially flooded: with the frigid water in places mostly ankle deep and others reaching no higher than knee-high on an average-height man. What’s worse, is the half-destroyed electrics ravaged by both time and the Aurora mean plenty of loose wires hanging here and there. It’s possible to accidentally catch yourself on them, meaning burn injuries and mild electric shocks — but care should be taken in checking if these wires may have fallen into these flooded parts. Stepping into these live waters will be far more deadly. They will also find that the electronically-powered gates that open through into areas may not function, with the fuses having been blown.

Gaining access through the mine is not impossible, however. It will simply require a little bit of legwork. One of the larger caverns of the mines houses a fuse board. Characters can switch off sections of the mines in order to traverse them safely, find new fuses in toolboxes scattered through the mines in order to open the gates and make their way through to gain access to the elevator of the mine — which will also require new fuses, in order to power the electrics to get it to function.

It is perhaps, most frustrating, that once Interlopers get the elevator working and head downwards into the final section of the mine, that they will come across hand-cranks — allowing them to use the elevator without the need for electricity. But at least the hard part is over, and the Interlopers now have a way through from Milton that doesn’t require relying on the Aurora to power the mine’s electrics.

On the lower section of the mine, there will be a handful of more gated rooms to get through before reaching the Lakeside Entrance, and more wires and flooded areas to traverse. But you can taste it: something on the air. You’re close.

You’ve made it, Interloper.

BRAVE NEW WORLD

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards.
WHERE: Milton Mines (Lakeside Entrance); The Ravine; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of exploration/survival; themes of peril; acrophobia; potential character/npc death from falls; potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk;

Coming out of the mines, you will be greeted by a small mining camp and railway track enclosed by mountains on both sides. It’s incredibly sheltered here, with little wind chill and not as much snow on the ground compared to some of the more open areas of Milton. It may be best to rest here for the rest of the night. There are several portacabins that were used to house some of the former miners, along with additional cabins with one being some kind of foreman’s office, one that served as a kind of mess hall and one for bathing/toilet needs.

While there is little in terms of supplies left in there, some scraps may be found here and there — plus the cabins will provide decent shelter from the cold, which may be the last Interlopers will get ahead of the long walk down through the mountain track and into Lakeside. There is also plenty of coal left lying around, too — allowing for Interlopers to craft fires to keep warm. Even with it being sheltered, it’s still cold out.

In terms of where to go from here, the only way seems to be to follow the track. It’s a long walk, but rather straightforward if you keep to the tracks. A good few hours of it, but it’s quiet — and there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of wildlife or windchill here. It almost seems too easy, or as easy as it could be in regards to a long walk through thick snow.

Until you come face to face with the ravine.

The world opens up to you, with the tracks stretching over a huge valley via a… mostly sturdy-looking wooden and steel bridge. There doesn’t seem to be any way around it, no alternative route of getting over to the other side. Crossing the bridge is the only option. Care should be taken, with Interlopers now being vulnerable to the wind and the snow-laden tracks. As sturdy as the bridge looks, it seems to creak and groan under the weight of a single footstep. There even appears to be the remains of fall train-carts in the depths, from some unfortunate incident years ago. It’s probably fine.

Crossing the bridge and continuing down the tracks will eventually have the world opening up even more — you’ve finally reached Lakeside. Thick boreal forests crowd around the tracks, and in places, Interlopers will note that the tracks have buckled and become badly damaged. When they find roads, they will also find them in similar states of disrepair from beneath the snow. Following them for another hour or so will eventually lead to Lakeside’s Maintenance Yard. From here, there is a road, with directions: signs pointing towards Milton, the Coast, Lakeside Resort and the Carter Hydrodam.

For those interested in searching the Maintenance Yard, they will be greeted by a large, fenced in building. Fortunately, a great deal of the fencing has been damaged with the bad weather and it is easy enough to gain access. The place is a bit of a mess: scrap metal, wood, and dissued trucks and cars litter the yard, along with wood that can be used for kindling and firewood. Inside the Maintenance Yard, it is a little bit of a mechanic’s dream. There’s plenty of tools in this place, and even a forge which could be used for crafting if someone has the patience to fire it up and keep it hot for long enough. There’s plenty of stores of coal, at least. But in terms of a living space, there’s not much else other than a small break room with some comfy chairs to catch some quick shut-eye. Searching the Yard for any letters or such will reveal a similar theme to that of Milton: difficulty in reaching the Mainland with postage and correspondences, the lack of staffing, and the problems with wildlife. There are also complaints and concerns over growing dangers of small quakes causing damage to the roads and rail system.

Following the road towards the Lakeside Resort is a mostly quiet and pleasant enough trek, as long as one keeps close to or on the road there as much as possible. The Resort is largely secluded, even if it is around the actual lake itself, and it’s easy to see just why this place would have been a popular vacation place.

The resort is a collection of a dozen luxury cabins dotted around the edge of the lake, each of them with a decent amount of space between them for privacy. The cabins themselves are sturdy and well built, but look far more modern and almost designer in terms of style - with huge almost floor to ceiling windows and spacious porches for that perfect lakeside view, and open plan rooms and balconies. Each of the cabins contain multiple bedrooms, suitable for vacationing families and mix both modern technology and more rustic means of heating homes — making them ideal for all weathers.

A couple of the cabins are not completed, appearing to be a kind of expansion of the resort that was not finished. Build materials still remain here. Some of the cabins on the furthest side appear to have become victims of vandalism, having been broken into and completely trashed with windows smashed, furniture missing and broken, and any goods completely ransacked from the place. There are perhaps five cabins out of the twelve that remain fully intact and may contain useful items such as food, basic medical supplies and tools, and will certainly be excellent shelters for those looking for somewhere to stay.

There is also a Camp Office, situated at the east side of the lake. Used as a kind of main office of maintenance for the cabins, along with an office or tourist centre of sorts. It has a decent stock of hiking and outdoor essentials. The Camp Office does also have a small living space upstairs — presumably used by Lake staff or rangers, with a wood stove and kitchenette, along with a bathroom and several bunk-beds. It appears that the Camp Office wasn't abandoned until a short while ago — no more than a couple of months.

Following the road to the Hydrodam is a trickier one than the one to the Resort. There is a higher volume of predator wildlife here, with wolf howls closer and more frequent. With the current state of wildlife’s behaviours, it is likely to face attacks from wolves on the way there. The Carter Hydrodam has clearly seen better days. It seems to have fallen into disrepair and may have only been run by a small skeleton crew. While the Hydrodam is gated and locked up tight, it’s possible to break in through the gate and gain access.

While the lower dam is currently out of bounds, Interlopers will be able to get into the upper levels of the main building of the Hydrodam, which consists mostly of offices, maintenance rooms, a medical bay, and rooms banked with control panels, plus staff areas. The med bay is relatively well stocked, but might need a little forced entry with certain medical lockers and cabinets. Tools and other useful items can also be found here, along with bunk rooms, a small canteen and bathrooms/showers. It might be possible with some work to get access to hot water here — the showering systems run on a back-up furnace system, and while some of the pipes are broken, it might be possible to fix them to get the hot water system up and running again.

Following the road to the Coast will find a dead end. The bridge that heads over towards that direction has been damaged beyond repair, and there looks to be no way of getting around it. Perhaps, much like with getting out of Milton, there may be an alternate way of getting further south, but time will tell.

But for now, here is an entirely new region, ripe for the picking. While it appears some places have already seen minor scavenging (with the exception to the vandalism and looting of some of the resort cabins), Lakeside is largely untouched. It is full of game to hunt, an expansive lake to take up ice-fishing in, and indoor locations to search through for supplies. Some Interlopers may decide to stay here permanently now that it’s easier to travel between Lakeside and Milton.

THE ECHO

WHEN: Aurora Nights, the month of March.
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/otherworldly afflictions; themes of grief; themes of loss

There are roughly no more than ten Aurora nights during the month of March, and everything occurs as usual: the insanely bright colours swirling in the skies before you, the crackles and pops of static in the air providing percussion to the strange, ethereal chorus of almost-electrical sounds. The electrics of the world around coming alive with its usual sputtering and falters. There is much mystery to these strange, almost supernatural phenomena — but they almost feel like a kind of staple in the Northern Territories.

But on these nights something different happens.

If you listen closely, the sound of weeping can be heard on the air. Those with the Aurora Call Feat will be particularly drawn to the sound, and will hear it more clearly compared to their fellow Interlopers. It is the sound of a woman, and those paying attention might be able to recognise the voice it belongs to: it is the same woman heard over the static of radios and televisions in December and early January. The same woman that spoke to Interlopers, telling them to sleep, with the promise of help — thus granting some of them powers. It is the same voice that screamed out the night La’an Noonien-Singh died, and the night of those recently killed in the church.

She is… grief-stricken. Her weeping is a raw and anguished thing, and the more you listen, the more it seems to grip at you. You feel her pain, maybe it echoes within your own. Those you have lost, those you have failed or hurt — a reverb that grows stronger as the night continues. It is an all-consuming pain, its depths endless. It brings tears to your eyes.

You carry this pain, as she does.

You feel it in your very bones, in your flesh and sinew. It’s an exhaustive pain, and as the night progresses, you find yourself incredibly weary. In a strange state of fatigue that won’t even allow you to sleep.

You may find yourself going in search of comfort amongst friends, or loved ones. To hold a hand, to embrace them — to not be alone in this pain you feel.

But it is a pain that is too great.

On these nights, you will find yourselves alone, without the comfort you would otherwise lean on. You will not be soothed by that comfort of others. For as long as the Aurora lasts, reaching out and touching others will bring real physical pain to you. It will hurt to touch others, and physical contact will produce a sharp biting pain, even for those who may not feel pain otherwise. Too much. It’s… too much.

Some of you were told once, in a dream: “Don’t you understand it now? We are all connected. The Aurora connects us.”

Once the lights in the sky fade, that pain will finally ease and the woman’s sobs will go quiet — but it will return once more, when the next Aurora comes.

FAQs

EXIT STRATEGY

1. It is entirely possible for NPC Interlopers to die in the mines due to electrocution, and players are free to use NPCs — we ask that players give mods a heads up so that the masterlist can be updated accordingly.


BRAVE NEW WORLD

1. The lower dam is currently completely physically impossible to access. The door that leads there is jammed shut. Characters will notice half-frozen water leaking on the floor around the door.

2. It is possible to find bodies in Lakeside, however there is a... suspiciously low amount of them, and the rare ones found by characters will have been there for some time. They will have appeared to have died of exposure.

3. Wolves can be found in Lakeside, and their tracks are incredibly common. Interactions with wolves can happen in the exploration of this region, and they will behave much like they did during the September event and be incredibly hostile to players.

4. Bears are also common in Lakeside, and their tracks can also be found. They technically should be still hibernating, and much like wolves — they will be aggressive towards Interlopers. Keep your distance!

5. Lakeside unlocking comes with a Companion Event of an Interation with a new NPC!

THE ECHO

1. Essentially: physical touch with others will bring Interlopers physical pain. Sorry about that.

2. It is possible for Interlopers with Aurora Call to attempt to reach out to the woman. Those interested can inquire into what that interaction may be like! They can find out what that entails here.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

[load_aim_shoot]

Francis' voice is closer. Raju looks up to see, and he is. A little at a time, coming closer gradually, the way that he'd been approaching gradually when Raju had first heard him. Like he's approaching a wild animal. Animal, Lieutenant Little had said, hadn't he, of men who let go of decency. Maybe it is an animal Francis is coming close to now. A mindless thing that doesn't know how to control itself, or think.

He closes his eyes again. The anger will push him past everything that doesn't matter, and his expression goes tight with it again. He hears the fire grow, thinks of Francis, older and vulnerable approaching an animal carefully, and the anger on his face sours. His heart is pounding fast enough against his chest that it's hard to focus past it. He focuses on it instead, feels it, tries to breathe and hopes that will calm the flames a little, can't spare the attention to listen for it. His chest hurts, and he needs to think.

"I... feel. She can make us feel, like the creature can. That must be it. I hear the crying, a little, but I— I never thought about these things here. Not like this. All at once. I remember—"

Raju opens his eyes, breath shuddering. He tries to look at him, get through that way. "It's what I dream about, Francis. And I wake up, with the— You can't be here."

[goingtobeunwell]

She can make them feel. The Darkwalker brings fear, and this unknown woman in the Aurora brings grief, perhaps even agony? And right now it seems like Raju is in the throes of that agony, feeling hers and then his own all at once.

It's little wonder he looks so out of sorts. There's grief in his own veins, but for Raju it must be magnified times a hundred. He looks like he wants to claw at his own skin.

"Tell me what you dream." He lays his hand on his thigh and sits back, settling into position. He's close enough, if he gets any closer Raju might -- it could be a lot worse than this. "I'm not leaving, so tell me what you dream."

He's not afraid for himself, but for his friend. He'll stay here until daylight if need be.

CW talk of torture, also CW maybe a hint of disassociation

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju’s eyes are wide, surprised. His eyebrows draw together as he realises that Francis really isn’t leaving, and Raju isn’t at his most convincing now, but surely Francis can see—

Counting on a man like this who sees Raju as a friend to see sense isn’t the only weapon Raju has here. He has the truth. Francis, the way that he’d treated those who counted on him, the drinking, he was weak until they had needed him to be strong. That’s enough, but that’s all. The man that Raju needs to be is something else. Tell him, and see what happens. Uncle had known, was the only person who really knew the whole of it, and the look on even his face, when he’d look at Raju sometimes…

Would Raju ever have told Seetha? Never, he realises. But would he have told Akhtar, if his brave, gentle friend had asked too many questions? Maybe. If he had needed to. If Akhtar had gotten too close to dangers that would have hurt him worse.

For a moment the flames grow loud, then shrink to something smaller, compressed again and white hot with it. For a moment what Raju’s expression is twisted with is grief, then it fades into a faint grimace. His back straightens a little. His gaze is unfocused toward the ground. His voice is quieter and matter of fact. He knows how to cut away what he has to without hesitating.

“The day I came here, before it, I kept a man tied up somewhere far from anyone. A good man, fighting for his friends— family. I told him he was too far for a scream to help him. I asked him questions, and when he didn’t answer I proved it. First his face, and he was quiet.” Raju pauses to swallow. “His ribs, and he screamed. But he wouldn’t answer.”

His voice is flat. His heart is beating too hard. A shiver spreads out from his stomach and he feels sweat on his neck, soaking the collar at the lower layer of his shirts. “Fingers are more delicate than ribs. I had a wooden rod, like a baton. I put his hand flat on the ground.”

He has to pause to try to breathe. His expression is flat. The flames are small and wild, trying to spread and grow in unsteady pulses but losing the fight, leaving thick, heavy smoke behind in proportion to the ground they’ve lost. Raju doesn’t pay attention to the smoke, watches the furrows his fingers are leaving in the dirt, doesn’t think of anything.

“Then his knee. I remember it. I remember the anger. I always remember that. I only dream of things—“ He pauses, panting. “Real things. Things that happened. I dream of that. Things like it. What I owe. What I am. What I need to do.”

There. An answer. The truth. Finally the truth, after worrying about it all those months with Akhtar, after running from it all these months stranded here. As if he could keep living as the man he has been, letting his responsibilities keep falling further behind him. He doesn’t know how he feels about it. He doesn’t feel anything. He feels the things he needs to do. That’s all.

cw corporal punishment, whipping

[goingtobeunwell]

It’s hard to digest all the complex feelings that suddenly flood Crozier’s brain. He jerks back at the surge of the flame, but he remains grounded where his knees and shins touch the snow. He’s learned to be very still in the snow, very, very still indeed.

There’s a very real man before him, and this very real man - a good man by all accounts, a man who pulls a relative stranger from harm’s way and laughs and teases and wonders and offers sympathy - has just admitted to brutal and inhumane acts against another human being. It’s torture, he’s tortured someone to what end?

God. He can sympathize, can’t he? When he was fully in his cups he’d ordered Hickey whipped bare-arsed with the cat o’ nines. He flayed the skin from him. Was he a good man? No, undoubtedly, but he’d harmed him and made him so much worse.

“What are you?” he says sharply, hoping to drag him out of this fugue state. He needs clarity, and Crozier can’t understand him like this. “What are you? What do you owe? Tell me, for the love of god.”

[load_aim_shoot]

It's a familiar feeling. Sitting in front of someone here, tangible, real, and the dim, far away feeling of doing what has to be done anyway, not hesitating. Francis thinks of him as a friend. Had called him so, that long night, when Raju had been worried that he'd pushed too hard. Those are rare enough in a place like this— rare enough at all. Raju's cut it away anyway. He'll see the remains after he finishes answering the man's questions. The damage is done, that moment has already gone by, but Raju understands curiosity.

Raju's jaw is tight, a little. His expression is even. His heart pounds hard enough to hurt his chest, and his stomach twists in a sick, familiar way.

"I'm not the man you met," he says anyway, pushing through it. "I thought I was. I—" His fingertips press into his palms until he can almost feel them again. He tries to figure out how to lay out the truth that feels so clear when he's only thinking it. Explain what he's been thinking, in all this time with nothing to do but remember it, unable now not to seat it at the very forefront of his thoughts.

"I lived at the barracks for years. Except the last— some months before I... left. Got here. I said I was a student. I lived that way. It was like I... forgot. What it was to... to do those things, every day. To follow orders. It felt like I was someone else. Sometimes I forgot I wasn't. I forgot what it was to..."

There's more that he needs to explain. Try to tell it like a story. Like it's about someone else. Maybe it is.

"They used to ask me 'aren't you one of us?' as I beat them. I forgot what that was like. I pretended I wouldn't have to go back to it, and I got what I wanted, when I woke up here. But I remember now. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm an officer. That's all. I have to be. I have to go back and—"

The noise he makes is pained. Something pained. He doesn't know what it is. It takes him by surprise. He curls over the feeling it makes in his chest. The flames are still fighting to grow and the smoke they make is choking him. That's what it was. He coughs and pulls in a breath and goes on, ignoring the strangled tone in a voice that can't press itself as flat as it's trying to. "That's what I owe. It's who I have to be. I'm not the man you met, I can't be, so you don't owe me this. Or anything. You don't owe me anything."

[goingtobeunwell]

Slowly the pieces begin to fall into place. Crozier thinks of what he knows of Raju - an observant young man, meticulous and intense, courageous, ready with a smile but also a quick, direct question - but he's never been naive, he knows he's been hiding himself. It's surface level knowledge, their interactions mere indicators of a personality but not the struggles and story, the things that truly make a man.

He was an officer. Crozier thinks back at their mutual jokes and teasing, superiors falling on their arses, that tense 'otherness' that was always unspoken. He was an officer, and his fellows were English. He couldn't have felt like he belonged.

But then he was reassigned? That's the question. He was taken out of the barracks and was able to exist without that otherness weighing him down, but why? And then the mention of interrogation under duress - torture, plain and simple - and the fact that this, Milton, is only delaying an inevitable return to that world.

"What I owe to you," he begins carefully, mindful of the rise and fall of the fire around them. He begins to pull off his parka to give himself some room to breathe. "What do strangers owe to each other? What do friends? It's simple, I owe you compassion, because you're in pain. If you mean to drive me off, then you haven't seen how little I value my own life over the lives of others."

The parka finally falls away and he inhales sharply, the cold air feeling so much better on just a sealskin tunic. "I refuse to believe I've misjudged your character, harm caused or hearts broken and all."

[load_aim_shoot]

“You don’t—“ Raju looks confused, swallows, closes his eyes to try to focus and when that doesn’t work opens them again. He’d explained it, hadn’t he? Some of it. Enough to change something. “Why the hell not?”

Underneath the raw, plaintive edge to his voice, more than anything, Raju sounds annoyed. He hates doing things wrong, getting things wrong. Especially now. It’s important. It’s dangerous here, and if the worst happened, Raju couldn’t bear it. He could bear it. He’d have to. He has to. He pulls in a breath to cut off the miserable noise starting to come out of his throat, coughs.

“Character doesn’t matter,” he pushes out. “Not like action. I’ll hurt you. I’d hurt you. If I had to, back home. It doesn’t matter what else I—“

But Francis doesn’t care about that, does he? Not for his own sake, anyway. He’s just said that. “You should care. About your own life. How will you serve your penance if you let yourself burn to death in the middle of nowhere for no reason at all?”

[goingtobeunwell]

"What if this is my penance? Who are you to say?" And he doesn't care, hasn't cared about his life, not even when Fitzjames was begging him to live.

"Stop arguing with me. If I leave you out here and you die what do you think that'd do to me? Mn? Abandon my first real friend in this godforsaken place the first time he shows a bit of frailty? By god, what you must think of me."

If anything happened to Raju, he's not sure how he'd be able to move forward.

"Why did you become an officer? That couldn't have been easy for you."

[load_aim_shoot]

Something’s pulling at Raju’s expression. He doesn’t know what it is. It hurts, but pain isn’t all it is. That it would hurt Francis to go even when it might get him hurt, too, to stay, and friend, even now—

“Sorry,” he mutters, still stricken. Francis told him to stop arguing, and the idea that it would speak ill of Francis if he had gotten up to leave like Raju’d asked is ringing oddly inside of Raju someplace. It takes him a moment to follow the question.

Once he does the jerking, jittering flames grow to a good portion of their former size and he closes his eyes, swallowing, as his heart strikes up a hard, sickening beat again. It’s only that the memories are so close to the surface now, where they don’t belong. It isn’t why Francis asked, digging that up. Raju doesn’t know what would happen.

Strain pulls at his eyebrows. A muscle jumps at the corner of his jaw. “Why couldn’t it?” he bites out over the noise of the fire, that part of the question not easy, but safer. “I’m good at it. Better than anyone else.”

[goingtobeunwell]

"You and I both know what it is to be good at something, but still not belong."

He hopes he's hitting at something there, but he can only imagine. Eager Raju joining the service not for his country, but for a wave of invaders. Eager, talented Raju, best of the best, but never truly fitting in with the others. But he'd pretended to be a student, and that was when --

"What did it feel like to be someone else?"

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju's expression pinches, pulls awkwardly around the mouth as he stares at the ground and he curls up a little, fingers digging into the ground, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

This, and the— that day with the rifle at his shoulder, the metal under his fingers, the recoil pressing into the bruising there. And the way he'd felt renting rooms and filling them with his own books, uniform stored safely some place far away, the sun warm and bright on his face and waking too late every morning without a clenching at his insides or any weight over his chest. They're tied together. He remembers the rifle in his hand. He remembers falling to sit, everything heavy draining out of him while the man he'd beaten laughed.

"It doesn't matter what I felt. I want—" The words are tight and desperate. Sour guilt rises up his throat and he swallows it down, then swallows it down again. "I want— to work. To finish my work. I know I— It doesn't matter. Please."

He pushes the back of a hand clumsily against an eye, breathing harsh, then drags the hand down until his knuckles are pressing against his mouth. He wonders if Francis will ask him anyway. He knows he can't be making sense. But Francis had told all, hadn't he, the night Raju had asked. Raju can't ask him in return, no, or don't make me say those things. This night, that damned sound on the air, it's pulling all of it to the surface anyway. Raju couldn't stop thinking about it anyway, it doesn't matter whether anyone asked. But saying it out loud, hearing the betrayal in words, out of his own mouth— he can't. He can't.

[goingtobeunwell]

“It does matter, it always matters.” Now do people always get what they want? No dreams are guaranteed, no happy endings freely given. But it matters, because they’re human and they can’t not yearn and wish.

He wants to reach out to him, but something inside tells him it’s a horrible idea. Raju might combust on the spot, and the both of them would go up in flames together.

“Breathe. Breathe, and say what you need to say, Raju.”

He doesn’t know if this is the best course of action. He feels like he’s out of his depth here, and Raju deserves more than a fumble in the dark. He deserves — is it peace? Is it quiet? He doesn’t know, but Crozier needs the torment to ebb.

[load_aim_shoot]

Breathe. He tries to breathe. Say what you need to say. He tries to breathe, and tries to figure out what that is. It doesn't take long. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"I'm sorry." It tears out of him, breath hot against the back of his hand. He tries to murmur and the words just rasp instead, that kind of control too much to ask for now. His voice is as jagged and unsteady as the movement of the flames behind him. "I'm sorry, Baba. I didn't mean it. I want— I want to go back. I promised. I have to. I won't do it again. I'll fight. I know it doesn't matter. What it felt like. I didn't want it. I didn't mean to. Send me back and I'll still fight."

He hears his breathing, the heavy gasps, and hears the roaring of the flames. Behind his eyelids his eyes feel like they're burning. He'd started shivering at one point, not enough to notice it then but he can feel it now, a little, on every indrawn breath. He feels all of it. He waits. But when he opens his eyes he sees snow and slush and frozen soil past the thick blur over his vision, still curled over the ground of the place that he's been sent, the place that his failure sent him.

"Do you think he heard me?" Raju rasps, not looking up, to the man who cares anyway, somehow, who refuses to stop and leave. "The dead. Do you think they can hear us here?"

[goingtobeunwell]

The question is a punch to the gut after getting his heart knocked around by Raju’s pleading to the heavens. “If the dead can hear,” he says quietly, trying to breathe slowly to minimize the intake of smoke into his lungs, “then distance or time doesn’t matter.”

Baba. Baba…Father? Must be.

“Do you believe you were sent here?”

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He shuts his eyes again and feels something wet try to roll down his cheek, moves his hand to wipe it off hurriedly and opens his eyes. He swallows, and shakes his head before he’s had time to think too much about the question.

“That would—“ He stops for a moment to cough. His voice doesn’t come out any smoother after that, and sounds a little like it doesn’t want to come out at all. “That would mean we’re dead. Wouldn’t it? And the dead don’t come back. Not like—“

He breaks off to cough again, smoke rough in a throat that doesn’t even want to carry what it’s meant to. “Not like this.”

It would take too long. To be born again and grow up again, and try again— and how they would suffer, if he did. Uncle toiling in the ranks with only British orders left to follow, Seetha waiting, the old men and women and cousins all waiting, for either Raju to find them again or for the soldiers to. What would happen to all of them, in the meantime? How much suffering? And that’s assuming that’s what really would happen to him. That he would see his home again in their lifetimes at all. There are things that he’s seen, in this place—

“The books here.” Raju’s vision isn’t clear yet, but he looks at Francis anyway. He has to ask. His knees ache and he shifts back a little on the ground, the heel of his hand pressing at the centre of his chest. “The copyright date on all the books. It has to be some place else we were sent. Not Canada, not the… the living world. If that’s the year, it’s already too late. But it isn’t. We can’t be spirits. We can’t be dead. But what else would happen after death, for men like us?”

[goingtobeunwell]

He aches to grab his shoulder and hold onto him, offer him some measure of comfort besides his meager questions and outright refusal to just leave. All he can do is listen to the stream of consciousness from Raju’s lips, nodding along softly without interrupting.

When the pause in thought seems to be wide enough for an answer, he frowns softly in his own quiet contemplation. What does he believe? It could be some sort of afterlife, but he couldn’t say for certain.

He can’t say anything with certainty. “I don’t know what awaits me when I die. It may look this way, but having never died before…”

Crozier raises his hand to wipe the tears from Raju’s cheeks, but stops himself quickly and drops it back down into the snow.

“I wish I knew. I wish I had anything of substance to tell you. I don’t believe we’re dead, but we’re not in any place we know. Something in between, perhaps? Perhaps…perhaps not.”

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Raju takes one, two harsh breaths in through his nose, watching Francis. He nods a few times, swallows. It isn’t the answer he wanted. That makes it easier to accept it. Of course he doesn’t get to know whether anything he’s said tonight was heard by anyone it was meant to, or whether he’s ever going back, or whether remorse will ever count for anything at all.

He swallows again. That careful lack of assumption when just guessing would be easier, Raju had admired it in Francis the first time he’d noticed it. He admires it now. Even when it hurts. Especially now that it hurts, he’s grateful. His lips are trembling, which means that he’s about to cry— that he is crying, he realises, or was, or should have realised it before. He knew without knowing, thought about it without thinking about it. It’s hard to think, and it hurts, and he’s never said these things out loud before. He doesn’t know what the inside of him is doing.

Control. No amount of apologising to the dead or grieving the suffering that he’s going to cause in the living is going to do half as much good as action will, and action is no good without control, and control doesn’t come without work. He only has to try. Try harder.

Raju bows his head and hunches his shoulders, panting. Put it away. It doesn’t matter what he felt before, when he was able to forget. This is duty, and it always has been, and he’s borne the way that duty feels for the majority of his life before. His heart starts beating too hard again, and one hand presses down hard against his chest while both curl up into tight fists, and the smoke around him grows as the flames compress into themselves, into quiet, still and white hot things, and shrink. The smoke is thick in his throat and his shoulders start shaking with the coughing that he’s holding back, and he notices it without noticing, knowing only that it’s hard, that it doesn’t matter that it’s hard, or how difficult it becomes to breathe, or why his chest heaves with whatever’s inside of him. The smoke grows heavy and thick, and what Raju knows is what matters, that all that matters is what he has to do, that he has to it, and so he will.

[goingtobeunwell]

It probably wasn't the answer Raju was looking for, but lying for the sake of preserving someone's spirit hasn't gone well for him. In fact, it's made things much, much worse, compounded troubles and caused doubt among his men and fellow officers. He won't risk it, especially when a man's heart is at stake.

Raju seems to fold in on himself, the storm inside of him fighting with his very rational mind. He admires him for it, even if he worries that he's pushing himself towards more of a complete mental break.

Morfin asking that they put a bullet in his brain...

The fire stops dancing around them, the heat calming enough that Crozier thinks Raju might have succeeded in his hard-headed attempt at suppressing the inner turmoil. Then the smoke begins to rise, slowly at first, causing Crozier to bring his fist to his mouth to cover a shaky cough. He coughs again and then again, throat beginning to burn, eyes watering and stinging, and he realizes that if he doesn't stop Raju from doing whatever it was that's attempting they both very well may die.

"Raju! Raju, come back to yourself, man!" Raju may be close but the visibility is dimmed, and he grasps blindly for his shoulder to try a quick shake. "Raju, the smoke--"

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Come back to yourself, man! he hears and then something stabs into him, into five places at his shoulder and he draws in a sharp, reflexive breath, hand darting out to try to grab whatever'd done it, meaning to hold it tightly, and then he's coughing, heavy, heaving coughs that he can't ignore, his eyes are watering and burning and he can barely see in front of him for the smoke.

[goingtobeunwell]

The touch is met with a sharp pain that runs up Crozier's arm and ignites him like lightning. He gasps in surprise, but for the moment doesn't pull away. "Listen to me," he says through clenched teeth. "The smoke...too --"

Between the pain and the burning in his nose and throat, he can barely get a coherent sentence out of his mouth. "Have to move!"

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Raju doesn't understand the pain, he can't think and where it's coming from doesn't make any sense but he understands the urgency of danger so he moves, pushes himself up and staggers on numb feet, the stabbing feeling of his grasp on Francis' wrist making him grip even more tightly on instinct, because if something's making it difficult and painful to do that means that he needs to hold on. He pulls with pained noises making it out through his clenched teeth, between the coughing. The flames begin to flare a little brighter, but he doesn't know if the visibility helps. The danger's coming from him; it might not even be possible to get far enough away.

"Go!" Raju bites out, letting go of Francis to push at him. "I mean it this time!"

[goingtobeunwell]

The very real and very imminent danger is apparent to Crozier. He yanks himself away and scrambles to grab his parka to attempt a quick run of it. He doesn’t know what’s happening; did he catch on fire already? What was causing that tremendous pain?

His coughing is hacking and violent - bad for a person with still-tender ribs - and the smoke too much for him to even see now, so he guides himself by heat. The heat is less in this direction, more in the other, so he makes his choice and tries to get away from the inferno.

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Francis is gone, leaving finally— and the pain is, too. Raju braces himself on his knees, tries to breathe, tries to think.

The danger is coming from him. There's no reason to move and risk bringing fire and smoke closer to a man whose only sin is risking himself for someone he insists on thinking of as a friend. Francis doesn't understand the enormity of it, the people Raju's failed, the people he's hurt—

That isn't important now. Figure this out. Keeping all of it at a distance a moment ago had taken a herculean effort, but with the jolt of danger pushing the rest of it back it's easy. Easier.

The pain. That was new. When had it started? His eyes had been closed. But he'd grabbed for it, and he'd been holding... Holding Francis' wrist. And it had hurt.

His coughing is ugly, heavy, but the smoke is lighter. Raju doesn't know if getting Francis away had taken Raju far enough from the bulk of it or if the fire itself is easing out. It's not a matter of anyone else's safety any more, and Raju is sick of the guilt of worrying about it. The rest of the guilt is still there too, sitting like a stone, like acid, in Raju's stomach and his throat.

He'd only been touching Francis, the whole time he'd felt like something sharp tearing through him. It doesn't make sense. But nothing about this place makes sense. The influences this place has, there's something about that, something he's forgotten...

He tries to think. Tries to hold his coughing in long enough to listen for any footsteps moving away. That would be something, at least. Maybe something calming. At least one person who matters still safe.

[goingtobeunwell]

He has to stumble a fair distance away before the air is clean enough to breathe. His skin still feels hot, his clothes smoky and hair dusted with ash. He coughs and spits black soot from his mouth and then leans on a tree as he fills his lungs.

When he’s calm enough to replay the events that had just occurred, he pulls back the sleeve of his tunic to inspect his arm. No visible injuries, and it doesn’t hurt any longer for that matter. Just when he’d touched —-

Christ, Raju. He didn’t follow, did he? He wheels around to look at the path behind him, then hesitantly up towards the sky to search for a pillar of smoke. Just the smoke from where he’d stumbled away, and by god, he hopes Raju hadn’t stayed there. He starts back, legs heavy as he trudges towards the charred and still-smoldering site in search of his friend.

He doesn’t immediately find him, which is both a relief and then a tremendous worry. What if he was injured? What if he was still in that awful state? What if he died out here in the woods and added one more person to the dead, cherished friend list —

Crozier exhales a half-sob and starts following the other set of footprints in the snow.

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Footsteps in the snow— a noise he’s well used to by now. Coming… closer? It’s hard to tell over the flames and his own harsh breath. And another noise, a… sob? That doesn’t make sense. It’s hard to think, and Raju is sick of that, too. But he can prioritise.

He closes his eyes and tries to listen, picks a direction— and feet still numb from kneeling so long and clumsy from the socks and shoes he’s forgotten in his thoughtless rush out of that cabin betray him. He falls into what must have been a shrub before the fire got to it and is now ash scattered messily under him, and Raju grits his teeth, sick of all of it. Of one more in what, if this is an afterlife, never amounted to anything more than a lifetime of cruelty and failure and then this on top of it too, the failure to keep one man safe, when all he had to do was make sure Francis stayed far enough away from him.

He tightens his hands into fists, not caring how much more deeply the sharp edge of half burned wood against his palm bites into the cut it’s made there, and he pushes himself to his feet one more time, shaking the bloodstained debris to the ground and shaking the blood from his hand over the snow as he moves. His chest heaves and he spits blood into the snow and realises one in the pointless clamour of his body’s complaints is something bitten inside his mouth, and it doesn’t matter what. He doesn’t care.

What matters is finding Francis. He needs to call for him to do that but that can wait, he needs to be quiet first, to listen. Raju will start calling if that doesn’t work, as soon as he can pull in a breath without having to stifle his coughing.