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]

The thick, pained noise coming out of Raju’s mouth resolves itself into watery laughter, then into a sob, then another pained noise as he swallows the rest of whatever this is down. This is ridiculous. It’s all ridiculous but Francis is happy, he must be if he’s teasing Raju still, and the teasing means everything is alright, even if Raju can’t force his thoughts into enough order to figure it out himself.

His feet hurt underneath him. His fingers are starting to feel the strain of winding themselves into the material underneath them and holding on so tightly. He doesn’t know if he should pull back or not, can’t remember anything like this in his adult life, doesn’t know how anything like this is supposed to go. So maybe he is supposed to pull back from Francis now. He doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to. And then he doesn’t. It’s strange for a moment, being here because he hasn’t pulled away. He doesn’t want to think about it.

He swallows, smells the smoke that lingers over Francis even after his quick cleaning. Over them both. His fault. Guilt tries to kindle in him but smothers somehow and he’s grateful, desperately relieved at this one reprieve, and it moves him to speak, wanting to express something about it without any of the words.

“You lied to me,” he manages, something tense and unsteady fighting a fond warmth for control of his voice, and he swallows again. “When we talked about your beard. Your neck isn’t horrible at all. I think that was just an excuse.”

[goingtobeunwell]

His chest rumbles in very false protest. At least Raju’s words are playful, even if his tone screams exhaustion and confusion. And it is confusing, this lingering touch, but it’s also clearly very needed for them both.

Finally (and yet still too soon) Crozier pulls back from him, saying nothing of his tear-stained face. He gingerly holds his shoulder, deciding that they must sleep now else they’ll devolve into hysterics, or something far worse, too much sincerity.

Crozier shuffles back, body aching from all the outside camping of the evening, and very slowly lays himself onto his back. He pulls back the edge of the blanket to invite Raju inside, though he pointedly doesn’t make eye contact with him. That could…well, it could be an invitation if he did it that way, awkward and unnecessarily salacious instead of something comforting like shared heat with a friend.

”I hope this means I get to skirt trimming my beard,” he says dryly, rolling up the edge of his furs to tuck under his head. He lets out a little huff, so put-upon it’s just tragic.

[load_aim_shoot]

And eventually, Francis pulls back. If he thinks that it’s time to pull away, then it must be. Obediently Raju unwinds his fingers from Francis’ shirt, straightens up as Francis moves too far away to lean on, presses his hands flat against the floor because he’s not sure what they would be trying to do otherwise.

In the wake of all of it, Raju’s more aware of the hand on his shoulder than he is of anything else. Then the hand slips away as Francis lays down, not looking at him, and Raju takes the opportunity to lean his head back, swallow and take a quiet, shaking breath, wipe the heels of his hands below his eyes. He sniffs and looks up toward the ceiling, jaw tight

Alright. The burning feeling in his eyes might be settling now, and maybe the rest of him is, too. It’s impossible to be sure. It will have to do.

When he looks back at Francis, Francis is looking away from him still. Probably giving him time to get himself together. He slips his feet under the offered edge of the blanket without thinking much about anything, pulls it over his legs and slides down to lie beside Francis on his back.

Their shoulders are touching this way. It’s the first thing that his mind tells him, and the second is how unhappy his stomach is with such a new position. He grimaces, swallows, shifts a little onto one side to try and placate it and watches Francis that way, forearm resting on waist and hand dangling over the trouble area, discomfort faint but present on his face while he focuses on the only part of this place that’s made any of this might worthwhile.

“Mm-mm,” Raju negates firmly, shakes his head, swallows. “You can’t demand respect with a patchy beard. The edges should be even, at least.”

[goingtobeunwell]

“Not interested,” Crozier replies, patient and unbothered as Raju shifts to try to make himself comfortable. His eyes close and he feels himself start to relax into the layers of furs, one tired bone after the other unwinding and melting into the makeshift bed.

He knows he’s always slept warmer than the others, despite their bewilderment at his iglu and general stubbornness at remaining outside even during storms. He’s glad now that he can share this with a friend.

“One day I’ll shave it all and you won’t know who I am,” he adds with a quiet chuckle. One last little joke as he tries to put Raju at ease. His arm with the hand is closest to his friend, and he raises it and lets it fall onto his folded arm.

“Don’t be afraid to toss and turn, mn? I can sleep through it all.” He actually can’t, but he’s never had an issues falling back asleep when woken.

[load_aim_shoot]

“Mhm.” Raju nods, too… too full, or too empty, of whatever it is inside him to take that as anything but an instruction. He doesn’t have to make himself stay still; he curls his toes, tensing the muscles in his feet just to find out what will happen, whether anything there can be relieved at all.

It hurts, unsurprisingly, sends another tide of that strange, busy feeling rushing in every direction through his feet and he grimaces, shifting them around under the blanket, turning further onto his side. That only makes the complaints from other quarters increase in volume and he swallows, discomfort on his face deepening, but doesn’t turn back, contents himself with deeper breaths while he focuses on Francis’ face, his closed eyes, the dawn drifting in through the windows to mingle with the light moving off of the fire.

Raju doesn’t make a habit of sleeping during the daylight. But he hadn’t been able to sleep from the moment that night fell, had expected to bear it like he had the other nights since that unearthly sobbing had begun and brought everything in him along with it, and push himself the next day to keep awake and collapse the night after, once the dark was truly dark, and safe. There’s a certain feeling to that, staying awake that way, and to the way he’d felt when falling asleep in the barracks sometimes: a pressure, a drive, an absence of anything but the pressure, and underneath it a flat feeling. But it’s different this time. This time Raju feels like—

Well. He feels like a forest after a terrible fire, everything that had been living fled or all covered in char and ash, the air chill and… fresh somehow, fresh in only the way that something completely cleaned out and empty can be, empty enough of life and movement and noise to finally be still. There’s only the smell of snow, and the minute back and forth movement of cracked black branches under the silent breeze.

He doesn’t know what any of that means. It’s only the thing that comes into his mind. He’s tired, he aches, and he can’t bear to try and figure it out. His eyes have closed, and he doesn’t remember when. There’s a body just there, too solid and reassuring not to be closer so he rolls toward it, again not paying mind to his stomach’s complaints beyond a grimace and careful, measured breath.

Something beneath his head; a shoulder, or maybe a chest. Too solid to be a stomach. Something underneath the closer arm, but his hand isn’t heavy enough to tell just what it is. He leans forward and his legs curl instinctively until his knees bump something.

“Used to sleep like this,” he slurs, mumbling into the shirt beneath his mouth. “When…”

His mind wanders away some place and then, one quiet word and long, slow pause at a time, idly wanders back. “We were… were boys. He’d always kick.”

[goingtobeunwell]

He's drifting in and out when he feels the comfortable pressure of a body seeking warmth, Raju's smoky hair brushing briefly against his neck as he settles again him. Crozier's chest rumbles in a half-asleep attempt to respond.

Later, when he's slept soundly for a few hours, he'll look back upon the revelation with a certain amount of fondness. He's speaking of his family, something he'd held carefully to his chest even when Crozier would gently probe.

For now his lips twitch in a soft smile. "Mm. My twin, Small, she would sleep backwards with her feet in my face." There's a lot there -- Charlotte, or Small, his closest sister, the teasing way his family called them 'twins'. He raises his hand to push his fingers through his hair. "I don't kick." Not like 'him'. Who is 'him'? A younger brother? An older one? A cousin? He wants to know, will want to know later.

[load_aim_shoot]

The words surprise him, mostly asleep, into a graceless snorting sound that turns into surprised pleasure at the fingers through his hair. He turns his head to give the fingers more room, make it easier, hears I don't kick too close to sleeping to think to even make any noise in return and drifts away that way, breathing heavily into the warm and solid thing beneath his head, knowing the warm presence just there, thinking of it, thinking of nothing. If he dreams it's all half-formed, exhausted things that don't make any impact at all, and he doesn't remember them when he wakes.

In fact he doesn't know that he's woken up, when he's done it. What he knows is an ache that spreads vast distances, across every place that must exist, and an awful leaden immobility all through every part he has that should move, and too much light behind his eyelids. Nothing exists beneath him, or above him, or around him at all. There's only a feeling of warmth, a formless, thoughtless expectation of more, and he manages to wrench enough control out of the leaden things attached to his body to roll the whole lot in that direction and start curling it up, vaguely aware of a low, deeply unhappy noise and vaguely aware that it's coming out of his own throat. None of that matters. What matters is sinking back into whatever it is that'd been so welcoming before, and using it to block that damned light out.

[goingtobeunwell]

His own aches and pains are mild in comparison, his back and joints less frozen through and body more used to the rough sleep of some furs on the floor. He’s not used to the warm body beside his, mind weaving elaborate tapestries of nonsensical dreams to explain away the presence beside him. There was a fire and then a white bear with a human face, and finally another person - not a woman, he remembers that detail acutely - all trying to keep him warm.

He wakes slowly, perplexed by the light outside and in his fog not quite remembering that he’d fallen asleep in the early morning hours. He rubs his forehead with the wrist of his left arm, grunting softly as the warm pressure from his dream continues into his waking moments.

Crozier looks down at and sees fluffed hair moving beneath a softly wincing form, chiding himself softly for forgetting. Raju, of course, and the pain now must be severe. He gingerly attempts to ease Raju off of him, but pauses when he realizes he might make things worse for his aches.

“Ssssh, sssh, go back to sleep.” He should be able to walk to see Goodsir for medicine, he just needs to be able to sneak off without waking him.

[load_aim_shoot]

The welcoming thing under him is trying to move. “Ssssh, sssh, go back to sleep,” it says. Words, which mean… Which mean that something is happening. Which means that Raju should be awake. Another noise comes out of him, a protest, but he pushes his eyes open, squeezes them shut, then forces them, blinking, back open again and scowls for a while at the first thing that he sees.

His hand. That’s his hand, and what it’s over is his friend’s chest. The way his arm is lifted and bent to be there is making muscles that are already complaining about last night’s mistreatment complaint even louder. It hurts. His fingers curl, halfheartedly trying to grip but not putting in enough energy to.

And his feet. That’s what that other feeling is. His feet. They still hurt.

He groans, discomfort again of course, but with a distinctly stubborn, determined tone forced overtop it now.

He turns his scowl up toward Francis’ face, squinting, the feeling of the blanket’s pull against his scalp as it slides back off of hair that wants to go in a completely different direction only adding insult to injury. Nothing good is going to come from being awake.

He needs to do it anyway. He needs to figure out if something’s happening.

“What…” The word comes out slow and still slurred with sleep and Raju lets his head fall forward again, sniffs, rubs half of his face against Francis’ chest in hopes of avoiding all the effort he would have to put in to raise his arm to make his own hand rub at his eye. “What’s… wrong.”

[goingtobeunwell]

"Nothing's wrong." His heart thumps a little faster as Raju nuzzles into him like a large housecat. He stops his head from reading into it up by turning his gaze towards the window, trying to calculate how much daylight they have left. If he starts out now he can make it into Milton and back in time, he's certain of it.

"If you're tired you should sleep."

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju shakes his head, knowing instinctively that isn't true at all, and presses against Francis' chest as he pushes himself up, grimacing as every muscle involved in the movement from his arms to his back protest against it. His other hand lands half against some part of Francis too as it helps; he doesn't look. A leg, maybe. The movement is slow, and he takes a harsh breath through his nose to brace himself for it.

When he begins to pull his feet underneath him to help him get to his knees his grimace pulls tight until it's on the edge of something else, something pained in the tightening around his eyes or the slight trembling in his lips. It isn't even so bad that he can't force himself through it; being sore, even this sore, in the morning isn't very bad at all. And he's walked on feet that hurt worse. They aren't even actually injured. All in all, if he was at the barracks making himself wake up for the day, it would be bearable. It is bearable.

But he hates it.

He takes a sharp, bracing breath, holds it in his throat and his chest for a moment, then lets it out sharply. He remembers last night, and Francis is comforting and close; he lets his head drop onto whatever part of his friend is close enough that he won't be letting himself lie down again to do it. He lets his eyes shut against the odd brightness of the sun and speaks in a scratchy voice, words still coming out slow, forced out of him one at a time. "If nothing's wrong, why the hell are you getting up?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Oh, Raju’s shuffling himself up and, uh, what’s his hand doing - ow. Ow, ow, his leg, he must have a bruise on that particular part of his thigh from all the bumbling around he did during the night. He pauses as Raju chooses to drop his head right over his heart, fearing now that he’ll hear the wild beating for himself. He inhales very slowly, as though that would help the rapid thumping in his chest, and then places his hand onto Raju’s back to draw a circle onto his ridiculous shirt with his fingers. This is…it’s fine, no more intimate that sharing the bed had been.

“Because you were groaning in your sleep,” he mutters, closing his eyes briefly. “I wanted to get you bandages and something for the pain. You should rest. Put something in your belly. Drink water, stay off those feet. All of those things.”

Raju is going to protest at the help - of course he’s going to protest. Every bit of help he accepted the night before was through sheer force of will.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju isn't awake enough to be shocked by anything. Or maybe he's only not awake enough to realise it; the touch over his back, a gentle, almost tickling thing over a place that's already expecting to feel nothing today but that deep ache and the sharp pain of movement pushes a quick, quiet breath out of him and then, as he turns his head, a soft noise, something between pain and relief. Then he takes a deeper, slower breath to combat both the ache and the stinging in his eyes — he's done plenty of that already, and that's only the way difficult mornings like this are, every little impact hits harder, even the ones that don't hurt.

Turning his head's pressed his ear flatter against Francis' chest and for a moment he listens in an absent way to the rhythm that he feels there from beneath Francis' shirt. He realises his hand on Francis' leg is tighter. Probably at the surprise, the feeling over his back. When Francis answers he's muttering, maybe thinking Raju will fall asleep again if he doesn't make very much noise.

"I don't mind the pain." Raju's still mumbling but the words are coming a little less slowly now, and it doesn't take quite as much to push them out. That's something. Now, without coffee, it should only take...

He grimaces, only for a moment. Nevermind. Thinking about how long it will take now before everything inside him is the way it needs to be will only make the stinging in his eyes worse. He shifts his feet underneath him, swallowing, tries to settle. "It's alright. You don't need to get up. Unless..."

Some meaning in the pounding beneath his ear is making it through. He moves back from Francis and straightens a little, moving the hand on Francis' chest to the place his ear had been and looking from it to Francis' face, letting the gesture and direction of his worried expression explain the connection that Raju's just made for him. "You don't need it, do you? Something for the pain. I didn't..."

His words aren't mumbling any more. That idea woke part of him up. He leans back a little more so his eyes can move across more of Francis' body more quickly, jaw tight, worry fighting with anger. If there's some burn there he hasn't noticed, if he...

"The fire," he says, trying to see if Francis is holding himself oddly at all, any burn hidden under his clothes. "It didn't..."

[goingtobeunwell]

Oh, goddamn it. Crozier's eyes snap to attention and he shakes his head quickly. Raju will spiral if he doesn't stop this, and god help them, they both can't afford to handle another night like the last. The only odd thing about the way he holds himself is how quickly he sits himself up, how rapidly he goes from being lethargic to at attention.

"No, you didn't." His voice is firm, he tries to meet Raju's eyes. "All is well."

All well. The note he and Fitzjames stuffed back into the cairn after scribbling dates and numbers along the original document --

No, all is well. He tries for a smile and finds that it comes quite easily despite Raju's worried hands on him. "I was worried about your pain. I wanted to wrap your feet but I don't have the supplies, and one of the physicians surely has something for the discomfort." Which Raju will have after hurting himself so severely.

"I'd thought if I left quickly enough you'd stay asleep," he adds a little cheekily.

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Raju looks into Francis' eyes, very intent for a moment, breathes out a harsh breath, assessing him—

Honest. Of course honest. And the way he held himself when he'd moved was easy. The set of Raju's shoulders and his back relaxes. He blinks, takes a slow, steady breath, calming. He gives a tired smile, expression apologetic and a little embarrassed. The hand on Francis' chest slides down a little, resting on his stomach, and Raju lets his head hang, the heel of his other hand moving over his eye and then his temple, then into his hair. He grimaces. It feels like it's a mess. He doesn't have his comb, or any of his things here; he'd heard some of the people who'd left through that mine were starting to trickle back, and moved what little he still has to keep himself in order here back into the cabin nearby.

"You don't need to worry that badly." The hand in his hair keeps moving, grabbing handfuls here and there to try and assess the scale of the disorder. The hand on Francis pats him, indicating his heart. Their movement is slow, heavy, each hand barely landing where it's meant to by dint of all the effort Raju's putting in. "I've done this before. Not, not—"

He turns his head to help his searching hand, grimaces down at the floor, and starts again, this time without edging toward that disaster under the aurora, the fire and everything in it that Raju would happily forget. He can forget it until he's woken up a little more. He'll be able to face it then. "I've felt like this before. In the morning. Swollen feet and all. I can bear up alright. I'm just... tired."

He clears his throat, expression tight for a moment. His hand drifts from his hair down to the crook of his neck, gripping at the muscles there, and the tight thing in his expression turns safely into another grimace instead. "That's all. Just tired.

"And a light sleeper, apparently," he adds, looking confused. "I don't... not in the morning, not when I'm tired this way."

Had Francis been teasing him just now? He was. The tone. He tries to think what to do with it, but his mind won't move.

"You don't have to go anywhere." That's the important thing. He looks back at Francis' face, discomfort from squeezing at his shoulder lingering. "You have everything you really need here. Don't you? Firewood, food?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Raju is clearly assessing himself, possibly for more bumps and bruises, but Crozier sees it as a settling of his mind. He was thrown so out of sorts the night prior that was his and wasn’t is still a very thin line, so he searches. He measures. He sorts through the feelings until he can find something solid to land on, and in this case it seems to be insisting Crozier stay right where he is.

“I’ve everything I need here, I don’t have to go anywhere for a while.” And he probably has some of the ingredients for what he wants if he gets a little creative. He could make bandages for Raju’s feet and a salve for the burns, but it won’t be as effective as what Harry and that new physician might have in their stores.

Crozier sits up the full way and pats Raju’s hand, which had been at his stomach and then his chest and now just sort of rests comfortably, as though Raju’s always woken up beside him in this manner. “But you’re not going anywhere either, not until you’re properly back on your feet.”

If he’s still tired then he should rest, and that’s the end of it. He doesn’t care that he’s felt this way before - except he absolutely does and wants to know the how and why and all else, but not now. Not now.

From their vantage in the pile of furs can see that the fire’s burned low, and he expects Raju to be thirsty and hungry. He gently takes Raju’s hand, squeezes, and then sets it back down onto the blankets. “You stay right there, mn? I don’t need help.”

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Raju makes a soft, assenting noise and watches him for a moment, then puts his hands underneath him and pushes himself up— but only far enough to make it easier to rearrange his feet. Knowing that Francis' warm, anchoring presence isn't going far quiets that urge to force his whole self up and moving and now his body's collective complaints are louder than any urge to do anything else, loud enough that it doesn't occur to him to try and fight them down.

Feet safely arranged so they're touching as little as possible — for the moment, it'll be too much again in five minutes or less, he remembers that from last night, and honestly hadn't been expecting to need that knowledge any more after waking back up — Raju leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands rubbing at his eyes, then his forehead. It hurts up his back to his neck and down again across his shoulders, leaning over, but he doesn't have to put so much into holding himself up this way. He stays that way for a long moment, but it occurs to him eventually that, though Francis isn't going far, he still was acting like he's going somewhere.

"You don't need help," he mumbles, then shifts his head just enough, over the protests of his neck, to frown past his fingers out at whatever it is Francis has been getting up to, while the time might or might not have been passing. He isn't losing time in the way he'd been last night, it doesn't feel quite the same; more familiar, like the times he'd used to forget to buy coffee and then surprise himself by being late to those lectures he'd never intended to pay quite so much attention to.

He'd been thinking of something else. Right. The actual question. Raju makes himself focus, and it comes along with an accidental half-scowl, half-squinting expression. "What aren't you needing help with? What are you doing?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier's already throwing a few logs into the fire, prodding and urging the flickers of a dying flame back into a roar. "You're impossible," he says. He grunts as he reaches for his kindling supply, gathering what he needs to add gradually into the fire. "If your feet weren't in such bad shape I'd consider a sedative."

More joking, but instead of his usual deadpan delivery he smiles. Raju is far too exhausted for his nonsense after all.

"I'm going to restart the fire, boil more meltwater, make something to eat. You need something in your stomach or you won't heal." Any bit of scurvy will just keep those wounds open. He recalls seeing the blood on Fitzjames' shirt from a bullet that had been fired years before...Raju will not have that happen to him. The wounds will close.

"Lie back down, Raju, because if you're sitting up by the time I'm finished with the fire then I'm going to make you drink some water."

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He picks up his head a little to watch Francis feed the fire. He's only got the one hand to do it; Raju should help. But Francis smiles and Raju smiles back at him faintly, tiredly, and then Francis keeps talking, and as Raju focuses on listening the thought floats away somewhere.

"You're terrible at threats," Raju says, wondering when his gaze left Francis' face. From his face to his hands to the fire, away from the fire... Right. He blinks hard a few times, trying to focus them, and realises one of his hands has migrated up to tug at his hair, following a faint urge still in his head to pull some part of it into some kind of order. It feels like a losing battle right now, but trying to think up a reason to stop might take more effort than just forcing his arm to stay up and moving, so he may as well let himself try. "You just told me you were going to make me eat either way. I think. Now what do I have to lose?"

[goingtobeunwell]

"Absolutely nothing, of course. You're going to eat and drink and eventually feel less like you've been slowly roasted over a fire." Fire properly fed, he sets a pan into the fire to get it heated and grabs a pot to collect some snow for meltwater.

Crozier pauses at the door before he steps through, glancing briefly at Raju and his general state of disarray. It's seems compulsive, the way he's trying to get his hair into some kind of order, but compulsive in an almost harmful way. He inhales sharply and steps out, hurrying to collect the fresh snow so he can return to Raju.

He's terribly worried about him.

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His hair is... he doesn't know. He doesn't have a mirror. This house has one in the lavatory, probably. He would have to stand up, and then he'd have to walk over and see. Then he'd be needing proper clothes, and a wash beforehand which is its own ordeal in a place like this, where skipping the effort to heat the water isn't just an annoying way to save a little time, it's awful, and when it isn't awful it's probably dangerous—

He would have to do all that. He doesn't know why he's thinking of it.

If he couldn't find proper clothes here he would have to wash his. They're in bad enough shape already, even when they're clean. Even as careful as he's tried to be, dangerously close to threadbare. It's alright most of the time so long as he can keep them clean, and the rest of himself neat.

It relieves something, he realises as he sits up straighter, grimacing as he runs his hands over his back. The movement makes his shoulders burn, and doesn't help his back at all. It's only muscles sore from work, from—

On his knees but every muscle tensed from holding himself tightly, curled over, neck and shoulders and back ready to, to— and arms trying to hold or pull, or... And the way his chest had hurt.

He takes a slow breath to shake off something lingering there at the centre of his ribs and the breath turns itself into a yawn and he leans back afterward, bracing himself on hands flat on the floor behind him, frowning up at the ceiling.

Francis left the pan in the fireplace, which means that he's coming back. Meltwater. Of course.

It's that Raju isn't dressed properly. He was presentable when he visited Francis before, and before he'd left any of the cabins for anything. In the Community Hall he had been all the time, left for one of the cabins when he'd had to wash himself, his clothes. Francis doesn't mind the way that Raju looks now. The stupid shirt had made him laugh. It isn't the only thing about Raju that Francis has seen and then said he doesn't mind. Raju takes a slow breath again and turns his head to hide the yawn against his arm or shoulder, but he doesn't shift his muscles far enough to reach. It would all be easier to manage if he was more presentable. That's always the first thing that needs to happen in the morning.

He's frowning as he looks down at his shirt, where one hand is trying to tug and smooth it, when he notices Francis here again. "You don't have a comb somewhere, do y—" The rest of the word has to pause so Raju can close his mouth over the next yawn. It isn't that it doesn't still make a noise, and he makes a very obvious face, but letting himself start yawning at all is why he's kept going. But he forgets to finish the question after he's done, makes a soft, wordless noise and blinks down at his hand's efforts instead. His arm is complaining at being leaned on, and he wants to move his feet. It's too much to manage when his mind's still not working properly yet. He'll do it in a minute.

[goingtobeunwell]

A comb? A comb. The man's barely functioning and yet he's worried about his appearance. Crozier leaves the meltwater and throws some root vegetables into a pan to fry up before deigning to reply to such a silly request --

Which of course isn't actually silly. It's a grasp at normalcy, at structure, and Crozier isn't so cruel as to mock his friend for wanting control in his life, even if it is just brushing his hair.

"One moment."

If Raju is going to get himself together he's going to do it correctly. Crozier gathers the meltwater from the night before, a clean cloth, and some soap and a brush that he'd found while scavenging in some of the unoccupied homes and businesses. Contrary to his emphatic insistence that is beard is just fine as is, he does try to take care of himself in what basic ways he can.

Crozier sets himself behind Raju and touches his shoulder. "Put your head in my lap," he tells him, "I'll wash your hair and you can comb it as you'd like."

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Raju twists to look at him — his back, and his neck, and his thigh as he puts weight on it to move, but turning all the way would take more work still, and be slower, and he ignores them — and he's frowning, even after he processes the words themselves. He isn't sure why. He knows what Francis means. There had been barbers, of course, while Raju had been teaching himself, but not many of them since then. And Francis isn't a barber. He's a navy man, a captain, probably more used to having his hair washed for him than doing it for others.

No, it isn't that. It's something else. Raju finds himself thinking of— of months ago. A lifetime ago. He'd washed Akhtar's hair. He'd been... happy for him. He remembers being happy. Thick hair curling around his fingers and his friend's expression, confused and trusting and staring steadily up at him.

There are parts of last night that aren't very clear; he remembers Francis' hand over his hair.

Raju's expression is surprised and he looks that way at Francis' face for a moment. Then he looks down, turns back away from Francis a little and then a little more, slowly. He grimaces as he does it, and as he lowers himself down toward Francis' lap a quiet, pained noise makes it out of him. But Raju makes it, gives a long, heavy sigh as he settles and then looks up at him, the odd, uncomfortable angle of the view putting a quick, polite smile over Raju's lips.

"I asked for a comb and you're washing my hair," he says with a soft, amused breath while the rest of him keeps trying to figure out what it feels like to lie down this way. "If I ask for a decent shirt, will you pull out a whole wardrobe?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier’s determined to be confident for the both of them, even if this is his first time washing another man’s hair. It’s not so much the perfect of the act but the tenderness involved.

He clumsily rolls a fur and places it under Raju’s neck for extra support, guiding and moving his head until he’s laying at the perfect angle. Then he looks down at him and winks teasingly.

“If you wanted food I’d give you a feast, if you were thirsty I’d give you a river. But no, I don’t have a whole hidden wardrobe, I thought that would be obvious by now.”

His hand hovers over Raju’s head. He braces himself - he shouldn’t be nervous, there’s absolutely nothing to be nervous about - and then runs a dampened hand through the soft waves of his thick hair. He dampens the clean flannel and runs it over Raju’s head, wetting his hair without soaking his friend or his own lap through. When it’s sufficiently wet he starts up a lather, paying careful attention to Raju’s scalp and the base of his head.

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Raju makes another pained noise as his head is moved again at the feeling in his neck, but he can't help the relief once Francis sets it back down with something behind it. The relief, and the feeling that this is... strange, still. A barber uses a chair, a basin behind, and a efficient, professional touch. It isn't anything like this. Another man's lap is unfamiliar, and the unfamiliarity stirs the awareness that anyone holding his head this way could hurt him very badly, if they'd wanted to. Even with only one hand. Raju's head and neck are just here in easy reach for Francis, and Francis is almost completely out of reach for him, in a position it would take too much time to move far enough to defend himself from.

He never would. But Raju finds himself testing the thoughts anyway, prodding them, feeling the way that the contrast lights up the knowledge that Raju is more certain of than ever, after last night. Francis could, very easily like this, and he never, never would. His hand is gentle instead. Raju's breath out is hard as Francis runs that hand over his hair, visible in the movement of his shoulders and his chest, but Raju keeps it nearly quiet. His fingers curl, thumb running over them, and he presses them flat over the floor again. They try to curl one more time, and he presses them against his thighs.

Raju hadn't done it this way, with Akhtar. He'd been thinking about the professional way, the way he'd had it done before. But he understands better why Akhtar had stared the way that he had, now. His legs are bent, knee trying to move back and forth idly, and he straightens his legs instead, sliding his feet slowly and carefully against the floor, for a moment trying to focus on that sensation instead.

When Francis lifts the flannel and Raju feels it running over his head his eyelids start fluttering, trying to close. Sleep, maybe, trying to creep back in. He isn't going to let it. The feeling on his scalp, the tickle of careful movement over it, it's something Raju means to stay awake for. Once he'd started to teach himself the way that he would need to keep his hair if he really meant to fit in the way that he'd need to with the people that he'd need to, he'd taught Seetha to stop touching it so much. Not once he'd gotten it the way he'd needed it to be.

Raju's breaths are a little heavier now, chest moving, and a little faster. He pushes his eyelids the rest of the way open one more time. It's impossible to see Francis' hand this way, beyond the movement of his arm in the corner of the eye. He looks up steadily at Francis' face instead.