1. I've heard teeth can explode in air this cold. Imagine.

[bestsir]

Who: Harry Goodsir and divers hands.
What: Continuations from Harry's TMD threads, plus open to anyone else who wants in.
Where: All around.
When: In the days leading up to September's event.

Harry has found a house. It's much like the others, but what catches his attention is that it appears to have been owned by a person—a woman, he concludes from the clothing and other belongings left behind—with an interest in natural history. There's a bookcase in the front room with a variety of scientific and medical texts—nothing scholarly per se, but popular studies accessible to lay readers. He cannot find any other trace of the former inhabitant—no body—and so after wrestling with his conscience for a bit, he eventually gathers up what seems most personal and puts it all in a storage closet. Just in case.

He'll open the door to anyone who stops by.

Otherwise, he is out and about, making himself useful where he can.

Comments

[bestsir]

"I am—" he begins, and trails off before he can finish the sentence, no doctor. It doesn't seem worth the effort.

"We try to live," he says simply. He's thought about this, and it's the only conclusion he has come to. "There are others here, others who will need help, and who do not understand how to survive in a place like this." There's a sad, brittle smile on his face. "At least we have that, and we may do some good."

[fidior]

Live.

Little's head stays hanging for a moment longer. The captain's final order to him — meant as a surface gesture, covering up a truer order beneath.... and yet the terrible irony that Little and those men ended up following it, in the end. Trying to follow it. He does not know if they were successful, back in their own world.

Ache and guilt threaten to consume him, and he sits there, shaken. But through it, Goodsir's words are... something to hold onto. Others to help. To protect.

'we may do some good'

Finally, Edward pulls his mournful gaze back up to the younger man.

"You are right. It's... it's what we must try to do. Some good." Surely it will be what fuels him in these coming weeks, to help and protect, in the ways he failed.

"Thank you. I am deeply sorry to have added more burdens to your heart." Poor Goodsir has already suffered so much, and Little knows what he's told the man is yet another dreadful weight. He feels sick from the confessions, that the sick were left behind. That no rescue attempt would come for those at Hickey's camp.

"I'll not bother you for longer," he adds, beginning to move to stand. "But I am grateful that you are here. I thought... I was the only one."

To be the last left behind.... is a horror of its own.

[bestsir]

Goodsir rises, goes to him, and places a light hand on his shoulder.

"We must look after one another, you and I," he says. "And the others here as well. My door is open to you whenever you like."

[fidior]

Standing now, Little lifts his head as the other man approaches and places that hand upon his shoulder — a light touch, but no less significant. A gesture, in this moment, of closeness, and to Little, of comfort.

They are not alone. Survivors, somehow, impossibly, to this place.

"Thank you." He gives his head a gentle tip forwards, and there is much more to say, perhaps; his heart is heavy, there is much to process — but there is time. In the days and weeks to follow, he'll make certain to keep an eye out for Goodsir on his daily patrols, and especially after learning that Hickey is here... Certainly, Edward will be fretful that the man may target Goodsir.

"Be well. I will speak with you again soon," he promises, clapping one of his own hands gently against Goodsir's shoulder in return as he moves towards the door.