we don't own our heavens now, we only own our hell ( OPEN )

[extramuralise]

Who: John Irving (extramuralise) + OPEN!
What: Arrival, TDM thread continuations, & more!
When: Throughout May.
Where: Milton & surrounding areas.

Content Warnings: canon & character-typical warnings for The Terror likely, such as potential mentions of body horror / trauma, disease, starvation, death/violence, cannibalism(?), religious evangelism, period-typical prejudice... & so on, as well as spoilers.



✒︎ i. |  LITTLE'S CABIN

It's not exactly a space built for two grown men to live inside, but luckily, living on and off boats for most of one's life teaches a man a thing or two about sharing close quarters— and anyway, Little and Irving are two men unlikely to get in one another's way. Irving doesn't take the invitation for granted, and spends his days — when he's not exploring the greater Milton area — tidying up the cottage as it can, making sure his presence is barely felt in the already small, humble building.

(Easily done, since it's not like he turned up here with much more than the clothes on his back, anyway.)

No one but perhaps the small handful of people he already knows are likely to turn up at Little's door to visit Irving, obviously, but anyone visiting Little at home might encounter him in or about the cabin, either tidying up or beginning to go over the community store accounts in a ledger he's found. If there's a kettle, he'll put it on for company, and if not... well, no sense in a wasted trip regardless, come inside and warm up a bit.

✑ ii. |  MILTON

Irving's been given a quick tour or two of the overall town, but during his early days especially, he's taken to wandering around town to get a better sense of the area. He's keen to begin going through the accounts and inventory records of the community's supplies, but beyond that, he's fascinated at the haunting sight of the nearly empty ghost town.

Naturally he visits the church, in awe of both the building and its resilient construction, exploring it with pious gravity. The graveyard, however, is left untouched; looked upon but unexplored. He'll likely visit it whenever he's in town, wistfully hoping services will be held there again, before continuing onward to the community hall.

✒︎ iii. |  BASIN

The basin is somewhat more treacherous of a trek, but Irving is grateful to have made it once he's there, the sight of game heartening to his peace of mind— and the overall vista itself, simply breathtaking. A good place to, apart from hunting and fishing, also disappear when one wants to be left alone with his thoughts, perhaps; to reflect silently in that lonely cold.

🌊 w i l d c a r d｡

[ Choose your own adventure! Hit me up with anything else, or PM / plurk me @ reggiemantle to discuss in further detail! Happy to also write/respond to personalized starters. ]

Comments

[fidior]

[ Little's all too-happy to fix him a cup — a gesture that he registers, somewhere, as odd only for how unusual it is. They'd had Gibson for such tasks, of course. But here, in this place... everyone must fend for themselves. So much of what was known and proper has crumbled away. And now— well. Now, he is just a man fixing a cup of tea for a companion. That is what the others here would say. Have said — none of them cling to what they were before quite as fiercely as Edward Little has.

Although he's noticed, there are ways. There are still ways, still habits, still certain obligations that each man may feel responsible towards, or perhaps feel a comfort in. Jopson keeps blankets and sheets neatly folded. Goodsir has opened a clinic out of his home. Crozier and Gibson... are more difficult cases. And then of course there is Hickey — who has seemed disconcertingly at ease to adapt to this place. Little isn't quite sure where he stands with any of them.

And where does he stand with John Irving...? Well. That will be determined in time, he supposes. For now, the matter at hand is to make the other man as safe and comfortable as possible, and help him in this place. Edward finishes two cups of tea and brings them over to the table — the drink's served in mismatched thick, rustic mugs, left-over from the original occupant of this cabin.

Placing them down, he moves to sit; here is his answer to that — he's quite happy to join the other for a drink. Gesturing for John to follow suit, Edward slides his chair to the table a bit more, folding his hands politely upon its wooden surface. ]

I imagine all of this must still be... very difficult to process. [ A soft shake of his head, empathetic as he frowns, though he means it to be conversational — a way to check in on the state of him. ] Do you have any pressing concerns, in this moment?