seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house

[singmod]

JUNE 2024 EVENT

PART ONE — A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME: The Darkwalker claims another victim, and that is only the beginning of troubles for the Interlopers as they face a month of endless night and green gloom.

PART TWO — POLAR SUN: As June continues, Interlopers are faced with food insecurity as wildlife flees; tensions grow as they face hunger and the Darkwalker's continued influence. On the day of the Summer Solstice, the tension finally breaks and violent chaos descends upon Interlopers.

PART THREE — REPRIEVE: The end is in sight, and an ally comes to the Interloper’s aid.

A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

WHEN: June 1st, then onwards.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area (Carter Hydrodam).
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.

The evening is quiet and still. May draws to a close and while the sun does not completely set, it dips low enough for the sky to grow a little darkdim with twilight. The midnight sun is almost upon the Northern Territories, the air is warmer than it has ever felt — even if it remains chilly. If this is summer, it is but a gentle brush of reprieve against the unyielding winter. The Interlopers wind down for the night, many turn to their beds to sleep, others sit awake and ponder their existence in this world. They think of home, of loved ones, of their predicament here in this place. The Forest Talkers, the strange beasts and monsters they’ve encountered.

The moon wanes in the skies, nestled amongst the stars. For those still awake to notice, they can see it: slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out. Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the Northern Territories.

The sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.

They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.

Under a green sky, a cold fear washes over you — squeezing the breath from your lungs. Interlopers will find themselves overcome with that fear, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperately attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cower alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.

For those within Milton, it is further away but is by no means less potent: Interlopers will find themselves frozen with the constant loom of the Darkwalker’s arrival — even if it does not come to Milton. Those within Lakeside, however, will feel the true force of this presence: more like a knife edge — painfully gripping your heart as it draws close.

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.

For those in Lakeside, through the fear, they may be able to note the path: a straight line from the east towards Carter Hydrodam. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.

There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and even with the distance you can hear it. The sound of gnashing teeth, and… laughter. There is no scream, no bright light in the sky — Enola is silent this time. There is only that laughter, echoing off into the night.

The skies do not return to normal. The green gloom hangs in the air. It is done, but it is not yet over. While the overwhelming fear dissolves away, but a kind of… dread remains on the air — almost palpable.


The Darkwalker has devoured another. Braver souls who go out to investigate into Lakeside will find just who has been devoured once they reach the Hydrodam — although it may be a day or two before they will find the body in the medical bay.

At least it is cold enough that the rot does not fully set in — but death will certainly be here.

And this is but the beginning of the Interloper’s troubles.

POLAR SUN

WHEN: The month of June, up to Midsummer’s Eve + Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; food scarcity/food insecurity; supernatural weather; altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death.

In the coming weeks and days, and weeks, the green gloom lingers. From the Darkwalker’s attack, there is no sun. No day, no night. No stars or moon or sun. No Auroras. Just the gloom and biting cold. Life becomes increasingly hard on Interlopers: higher expenditure on fuel — fires and lanterns are imperative to keep the darkness and the cold at bay.

With the green gloom in the air, the wildlife becomes more scarce — as if it has been frightened away into the deeper parts of the wilds. It will be harder to bring in fresh meat in both Milton and Lakeside, and Interlopers will find that they will have to rely on whatever stores they have — and perhaps even rationing for a while.

And it’s not the only thing frightened. Even with the debilitating fear that comes with the Darkwalker’s attack gone, there is still a kind of fear that lingers on the air that slowly eats away at the Interloper’s resolve over time.

Interlopers will find themselves anxious, on edge. Some will be prone to anger in their fear, others prone to fits of melancholy: tearfulness and sorrow. Between the cold, the lack of fresh game and the fear on the air — it’s no wonder spirits are low. Bickering and minor upsets between Interlopers are likely.

They call it the midnight sun, the polar day. It's opposite is the polar night. This is neither and both. On the day of midsummer's eve, that fear on the air is even more palpable. The air feels a little stifling at times, as if the pressure is all off — often quite oppressive, a strange kind of tension. There is something brewing, a low burning thing that begins from the moment Interlopers wake — heavy and sharp in their chest.

’So, Interloper. What will you do now?’ A voice sneers in your ear. The very same voice that has haunted Interlopers since the very beginning. The Darkwalker finally speaks after all these weeks of gloom since its most recent attack. ’When all is gone, when even the sun does not rise? What will you do then?’

A nervousness sits within you as you remember the Darkwalker’s words. What will you do if the sun does not rise? If the darkness is all that is left? If the food runs out? Your wonderings will continue to gnaw away within you. The darkness is hollowing.

’Will you lean on others, like you have always tried to do?’ the voice continues. ’What bonds you hold with them, the ones with those around you. But how strong are they, truly? Can you trust them? Will it matter when your belly is empty and your heart is low? Perhaps it is time to see.

’Never forget, Interloper. I am the Rot. And I will rot within you.’

As the day progresses into the Solstice, that tension lingers in the air, and the wonderings within you continue to wear at you. You find yourself becoming more and more agitated as time goes on. Those feelings that have been brewing for some time now have started to grow close to boiling. You may snap at others, grow restless, become enraged at the tiniest of things — the upsets wildly out of proportion for the smallest slights or issues.

You find your thoughts wandering, too. Perhaps it is to someone you know in this place, or perhaps it is to someone previously unknown to you. Maybe you have an issue with this person, or perhaps the voice’s influence extends further — not only adding to your agitations but creating them, too. A slight, a grudge, a bias.

You feel a bitter gnawing within you. The nightmarish green gloom above you persists and everything bubbles up from within. From the dark, the anger within you become too much. The tension finally snaps.

For some, it might come out as a vicious argument where you air your grievances, or finally let slip the things you’ve been holding close to your chest. A verbal beat down, incredibly hurtful in nature. For others, things may be drawn to getting physical. A literal beat down where your fists grow bruised and bloody, or perhaps even worse. Whatever it is, you want to do damage to someone else — there is darkness here, and so many things come out in the dark, don’t they?

Like a ripple, all around you: all hell breaks loose. Chaos erupts, and the air is filled with violence.

Let’s hope you might stop, or someone else stops you, before someone gets killed.

REPRIEVE

WHEN: Circa three days after the Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: blood.

All things must come to an end, even the most violent of deadly storms. In the midst of the seemingly endless violence of the night, you find yourself outside. Maybe you're fleeing from another Interloper, maybe you're desperately trying to reach someone you care for, maybe you're simply trying to find somewhere new to hide. Interlopers are hunting one another, blood lies on the snow, bodies too — some breathing, some not.

Perhaps it is a trick of the light. Perhaps it's the Darkwalker’s influence still warping your already frayed mind. Or it's the blood in your eyes, your battered and bruised body struggling to get through it all.

In the gloom, you see it. See her.

A woman, dressed in furs, stones and shells glimmering on her chest like armour, stands in the snow before you. Thin and pale, eyes sunken. Her chest heaves with each breath as she looks around with wide eyes. Her hands are bare and bloody. It drips slowly from her fingers. Is it her blood? Or someone else's? You cannot tell, but you cannot mistake how thick it coats her skin.

Her head turns to look at you. You are stunned, but not frightened. Even through the gloom, after a moment or two, her eyes widen in recognition: she knows you.

Slowly and silent, other than her noisy breathing, she draws close to you. Maybe in turn you draw close to her, closing the distance between you. Up close, her eyes are blue, and sad. You cannot mistake the sorrow in them. She is tired, weary. Her hair is dark, worn loose and long. For some, you feel as if you've seen her before, but you can't quite place her face.

Softly, she says your name.

For some, there may be no recognition. This woman is a stranger, who knows your name somehow. She has been silent the past couple of months, after all.

For others, hearing her speak brings a sudden, jarring realisation: this is Enola.

She’s here. Enola. All this time, she’s whispered to you in dreams, in static, in the very air itself.

She raises one hand, dark and dripping in the green light. Lightly, her fingers brush against your chest. You don’t feel the pressure of them, don’t feel the odd heat of blood — only the weight of her stare as she holds your gaze. It’s a long moment of peace in amongst the chaos.

You feel her exhaustion, a tiredness that sinks into your very bones. Apologies, too. You have never known anything like it. But there’s something else too, something that takes a moment or two to put your finger on. Defiance. A renewal. Something shifts in the air, a growing tension, different from the kind that’s been held on the air throughout the month. It’s the coming of a storm, the rolling clouds, the growing rumble of thunder before the first lightning strike.

Enola nods, her expression grave. She pulls away and turns from you — her head lifting towards the skies as she walks. Her arms raise, bloodied hands twisting and tensing before her. They curl, almost into fists, and she makes a gesture: the slow tearing of something huge and invisible before her — a shriek spilling from her lips. A battle-cry, a last stand, a wail of agony. It echoes.

The sky cracks and splits open before you, dazzling light and colours blinding your vision into pure white. The world tilts too hard below your feet, and you don’t remember passing out.

When you awaken, Enola is gone. The skies are clear and blue, the sun is high in the sky. As you pick yourself up from the snow, in the harsh light of the polar day, blood has never looked so red. The horrors of the night laid bare. Interlopers are dead, but the Darkwalker’s influence is gone. For now.

In the wake of Midsummer, all Interlopers can do is try reconcile. Bury the dead, rebuild, lick wounds. But that feeling in the air still remains — that different, new kind of tension that has come with Enola’s appearance. The first of the lightning bolts has struck, but more are coming.

FAQs

A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

1. Alexander Hilbert has been devoured by the Darkwalker. His remains can be found in the Hydrodam. The following note has been left by Kates concerning his death: ‘Sveta gets possession of his research notes + blood samples + creepy lab journal because it's all in Russian, lmao.’

2. Information on the Darkwalker’s attack can be found here.

3. Usually, after the Darkwalker attacks, the sky would return to normal. This won’t happen. Instead, the usual atmospheric changes that occur during Darkwalker attacks will remain in place as June continues..


POLAR SUN

1. For an idea how the setting appears for June, it's like what you see in the game during the Escape The Darkwalker Challenge. Inside, there'll be a degree of green shades to rooms etc via what comes through windows but with it being lit up via fires and light sources, the gloom will be chased back.


2. Characters are free to use this event to kill NPC Interlopers. Methuselah and Young Bill are off the table, as are two marked NPC Interlopers. Please let Mods know if you intend on doing this for record keeping!

3. These acts of violence can be physical or verbal altercations, players are encouraged to work with the prompt however they'd like! However, anything potentially world-altering (ie. building destruction) must be first discussed with mods.

4. Interlopers under the Darkwalker's influence can be stopped in a number of ways. Showing genuine care and compassion in the face of violence is one way. Knocking an Interloper out is another way. Sometimes killing an Interloper may be needed, or simply restraining them and keeping them locked up somewhere so they can't hurt anyone else until the night is over would also work.

5. Talismans made by Heartman back in March with a Ward Sigil against the Darkwalker will come into effect during this prompt. It's been an ongoing process, with new Interlopers being offered them from their arrival. Players are free to choose what kind of talisman they received, or if they chose to get one at all. Their effectiveness is dependent on the type of blood used on the talisman.

— Animal Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from animals found in the world, such as deer, rabbits or wolves will find themselves more susceptible to the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They will be much harder to break out of the hold over them, and become almost frenzied state.
— Monster Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from any creatures or monsters that Interlopers have encountered in their time in the Northern Territories, such as the Serpent from December’s TDM will find there are no negative nor positive effects. The talisman is essentially useless. and Interlopers will fall under the Darkwalker's influence.
— Interloper Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood for Interlopers will be offered protection/resistance from the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They may be slightly affected but will have their wits about them more compared to others. If the blood came from an Interloper with an Aurora Feat — this protection/resistance will be largely increased, an the Interloper may even feel braver, less affected by the fear in the atmosphere.
— No Talisman: Similar to the Monster Blood Talisman, Interlopers will be affected typically by the Darkwalker's influence in due course.

There are no additional affects with an Interloper using their own blood, just if they have an Aurora Feat or not.

6. Animals owned by Interlopers will be more frightened and will want to hide away in the build up — they will be disturbed by the world. Mostly lying down and whining/restlessness. They may display some signs of aggression on occasion, but not to the same degree of humans.

7. Forest Talkers are hidden away and will not be able to be reached during the Solstice.

REPRIEVE

1. Enola can only be met alone, but she will appear to all Interlopers in Milton.

2. Enola will be nowhere to be found afterwards, there are no tracks to be followed. She has simply vanished.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

Francis Crozier | The Terror

[goingtobeunwell]

Open Prompts & Closed Starters ❄️🐻‍❄️⚓🔪🩸🩸🩸

[Plotting Comment for the Event]

Polar Sun - cw cannibalism, gore/injuries, usual warnings for The Terror

[goingtobeunwell]

Before Midsummer

Crozier's not like himself. Not the Francis Crozier the interlopers have come to know, the quiet soul in the sealskin tunic, a man who mainly spends his time in the wilderness picking herbs and mushrooms or teaching people how to fish. His bouts of melancholy leave him irritable and pessimistic, dire about their fates and current state of affairs and quick to drag the others into despair with him. Or worse, he becomes irritable and angry, and a little mean. His old crewmates will know this Francis Crozier, the spiteful captain who sent men to their deaths for want of a bottle of whiskey.

He tries to keep to his usual schedule of drop-offs and weekly conversations and check-ins, but the longer the haze of discontentment and aggression keeps them all within its hold, the worse off his mood seems to be.

It's a roll of the dice which version of Francis Crozier someone may meet out in town or in the wilds outside of Milton.

Solstice - Closed to Raju

His body's been pulverized. He hadn't felt it when it was happening - Christ knows he didn’t feel much of anything beyond the wrath and the arresting need to eviscerate Cornelius Hickey - but he certainly feels it when the mania begins to subside.

Crozier leaves droplets of blood in the snow as he pushes himself to walk just a little further, just a little further, bones scraping together and a sharp pain poking into something soft and vulnerable inside of him. He coughs; it tastes like the warm blood from a freshly-butchered seal. It's the still-warm caribou meat on his tongue, blood soup from Ukaliaq, it's Harry Goodsir’s foot…

He once asked his men to walk over 800 miles, he can walk to his cabin on the Milton outskirts.

He can. He can. He can…not. He cannot. He falls, face down into the snow, and thinks of a poem in a tongue he'd sometimes mangle. They laughed at him quietly at his blunders. He was a white man, a qablunait, and his mind was child-like and prone to whimsy. He could not be blamed for not understanding.

I will sing a song
A little song of myself
Sick have I lain since Autumn
And I have turned weak as a child
Unaya, unaya

Do you know your fate?
Now I lie faint and cannot rise
And only my memories are strong

The snow is cold on his face, but it feels good against his swollen eye.

Solstice

[load_aim_shoot]

Shock is cold and sharp through every part of his body but he doesn't give it time to stop him, dropping the bow from his hands and shoving it to hang out of his way as he goes to his knees next to his friend facedown in the snow.

There's no time to feel right now, and Raju is better at acting anyway. Francis' neck feels fine, it should be fine to move his head, turn it away from the snow so he can breathe. "Francis," he says urgently, hand on his friend's cheek and trying to look into his face close enough to see it in the dark, to see whether he's awake. He looks around them after, quickly; it doesn't seem like such a good idea to be out here, now. "Are you awake? Is anyone following you?"

[goingtobeunwell]

He is reasonably conscious, enough to flinch when Raju lifts his head out of the snow, but his face is too swollen to really register anything but a slight twitch of his brow. Reasonably conscious is far better than dead, and he's mostly aware that Raju's the one speaking to him.

He wants to answer him, wants to tell him everything that happened. "Patrick," he says, voice barely registering above a whisper. There's blood in his mouth. "Patrick."

He was sure the man's name was Patrick.

[load_aim_shoot]

He doesn't know that name. But isn't a name enough to know that they aren't safe? He has to get Francis inside. He runs a hand down Francis' back over his spine, paying attention to what he feels, looking around him. It's impossible to tell where Francis is hurt with the man himself not aware enough to tell him. He might be safe to move. But Raju doesn't know the right way to carry Francis back.

He strips the blanket wrapped around him off quickly as he can, slipping the knife inside it in his pocket and spreading the whole thing out beside Francis. "I'm going to roll you over," he says, even as he's setting an arm against Francis' side and grabbing at his hip to do it. "It's probably going to hurt."

There's no time to be gentle or slow so with that he does it, keeping as much of Francis still against his bracing arm as he can and then tying the blanket's edges in a few places around him, then picking up one of the blanket's tight knots and pulling it behind him back the way he came.

"If you can stand when we get back, that will help with the stairs." He calls it behind him as he pulls, in case Francis is aware enough to make sense of it. He isn't worried about making noise; it isn't hard to tell that Milton is busy with its own problems tonight, and if anyone does hear and come to make trouble, he wouldn't mind trying out his aim on a moving target. "Lean on me, and I'll do most of the work. But it'll hurt more if I have to pull you up."

[fidior]

It's all happening again. For months, some supernatural presence has stalked and taken some of their number. And now food is running low — wildlife is scarce, there is no "more" to be found. Now people are afraid of when they might eat again. Tensions are only rising more and more each day; there's been looting, stealing. Little wonders if there's been worse.

Perhaps it was always going to end this way. Again, and again.

'I am the Rot, and I will rot within you,' the thing claims, but some of them have already been rotting. Still, he tries. Still, he fights. What Edward Little doesn't know yet is that in a few days' time he will kill a man for the first time in his life. Not in an act of aggression spurned on by the thing that whispers in their ears. Not in a dizzied haze of frenzy. He will be himself when it happens — and that, truly, is why he will lose himself after.

For now, he thinks there is still hope. But it's all so precarious, and he's watched his worst nightmares play out before his eyes — like pieces of his own memory conjured forth. This could be the Expedition, what went wrong, happening again. And he doesn't know how to protect everyone. He needs help.

Which is why, when he sees Crozier heading into town, presumably to make one of his drop-offs, Little feels a sweep of relief so strong that it nearly sends him reeling. His heart leaps; he rushes towards the other man with a thud of heavy boots. "Captain—!" he calls him, even now, in moments when he cannot help himself. He needs a captain.

But he can see it right away. Of course he can; Little knows him. Maybe not in the way some others do — but he can see the look in Crozier's eyes. They're capable of such a softness, something warm, fond, fatherly, wounded. They're also capable of a sharpness so cutting that a man would find himself unable to keep contact. He looks irritated, and Little's immediately apologetic in the face of it. (And yet, he feels a slight twinge of irritation of his own.)

"I apologise for disrupting you, sir. I know you must be busy, but— I was hoping we might speak. About our circumstances."

[goingtobeunwell]

He isn't best pleased to see his former lieutenant, let alone hear him call out for 'captain'. Today began as it typically does, his mood dour but otherwise even, but the moment he stepped foot in Milton everything and everyone began draining the well of his patience with each passing minute. He has none left for Edward Little, who cannot seem to read the writing on the wall.

These people don't need navy men. They don't need the formalities, the 'sirs' and 'madams' and the chain of command and the strict adherence to something that never served any of them well. His indulgence in this behavior - as that's what it feels like in the moment, an indulgence - has gone far enough.

Little approaches and Crozier wants to grab him with his solitary hand and shake him hard. He bites his tongue, tries to calm the rising bile.

"Which circumstances would those be, Edward?" he asks gruffly. "The hunger, the demon stalking our people, the madmen in the forest? Or perhaps you're referring to one of the other dozens of problems that keep piling on top of us all, mn?"

[fidior]

The answer stuns him, visibly. Little blinks as the other man lists out a good variety of those very circumstances, but it's clearly with irritation. Of course, given how dire things are, it's no surprise that someone would be less than thrilled to go over it all, but—

....It's familiar. And presses upon some nagging discomfort that feels shaped like an irritation of his own. Still, Little tries — although perhaps the patience he forces into his own voice has just an edge of frustration to it, as well. He lifts a hand as though in gesture, brows lifting as he speaks.

"Yes. There are... an abundance of problems. Things we, specifically, have dealt with before." He nods, eyes locked right onto the other man. It's clear that he expects Crozier to do something. To help. To... lead.

"We need to discuss a plan of action, sir."

Before Midsummer!

[salamanca]

Lalo is as jovial as ever, although in the wake of the recent outburst of violence, his usual good temper is slightly subdued, replaced by confusion and wariness. Truthfully, Lalo is more accustomed to random violence erupting over nothing than most people; that's just how gang life is.

He makes the rounds, in the dark, going from home to home checking on people. Asking if those too weak, or too old, or too young to venture out safely, need anything. Some have taken refuge at the Community Hall; those, he doesn't bother with, as they're already being taken care of by others.

But some are too scared, or too infirm to go. Those, he visits.

Imagine Lalo's delight when he runs into Crozier! It is quickly subdued, though. Something about the other man seems... off. It's not as obvious as some of the others, whose violence spills into the streets, but there's a dour mood hanging around the old man.

"Eh?" Lalo asks. "You okay?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Lalo’s witnessed him in the throes of his melancholy firsthand; this is not that. This is that grating, irksome, venomous sort of low-simmering anger that’s finally come out of the otherwise very patient man.

Fortunately he still doesn’t want to direct that anger towards anyone. Unfortunately it’s beginning to come out in other ways; in this instance his ire is directed at a door that won’t come unstuck.

He’d been hoping to restock a cache in the abandoned post office, but his goods are abandoned at the moment, his foot and shoulder knocking into the door with an increasing amount of grunts and stray curse words. He pauses once when Lalo approaches, then kicks the door again.

“Goddamned door won’t open!”

[salamanca]

Oof. Looks like Gramps is mad. Lalo finds the display of anger endearing despite himself. He can imagine Michael getting angry like this. What a sight that would be.

But then, you can't be intimidated by angry people when you're related to Tuco.

He looks at the iced-over door and tries to push on himself. No dice. "You're not kidding," he says with a snort, as he turns to Crozier, with a soft hum. He gets an idea. There's a lot of snow.

"Hey. You don't have a bucket or anything, do you? I might have an idea." He explains, thinking that Crozier probably isn't feeling patient enough to wait for an explantion: "I could melt some water for us. If we pour warm water over it, that might melt the ice." A shrug. "Worth a shot, right?"

Reprieve

[goingtobeunwell]

Convalescence I - Closed to Svetlana

A few days after the events of the solstice have calmed, when it's clear that Crozier's going to live after all, Dr. Nazarova is called to the small hunting cabin out in the western woods of Milton outskirts. He's still in terrible shape. Half-dead might be an apt description, but still alive enough to complain whenever he's moved or jostled, or god forbid, has to answer a question about 'where the pain's located'. The answer is everywhere. Everywhere goddamned hurts.

But Svetlana has come to the cabin, and she is his savior, overwhelmed as she most certainly is after the chaos of that night. He's only heard bits and pieces of the violence that erupted during the Solstice - people were killed, a lot of people were killed by the sounds of things, and it was bloody and terrible, and it left so many of them just trying to pick up the pieces of their already precarious lives. He can't imagine how difficult it must be for the doctors right now, so he intends on being polite and grateful to her, and not curse under his breath when she makes that tight plaster around his chest.

Convalescence II

He's in no position to leave his cabin after the events of the Solstice. His proxy is Raju for the time being, who runs errands and delivers messages and is entirely capable, but he doesn't enjoy being completely cut off from everyone else. It was difficult when he was drying out, but at least during that time he didn't have the mental fortitude to particularly care about the goings-on around him. His mind's as sharp as ever now, and all he can do is sit and worry, and hope to receive a visitor or two from time-to-time.

He has a thousand questions, a thousand worries on his mind. He needs to hear that his people were still alive and well, and once they're accounted for he wants to know about the others. Just how many were lost altogether? Was there a need to see justice done? What was decided when it came to everyone's fates? Were the people fair? Christ, how he hoped they were all fair to each other, and decent, and remembered to be kind.

At this point it seems like a punishment to be forced to sit by the fire and read instead of being of any actual assistance. He does, however, get to think and plan, and with all the time in the world he starts to shore up some ideas he hopes he can set in motion.

Re: Reprieve

[balancedlight]

Svetlana makes a hasty introduction to both men as she attempts to put together the broken pieces of this man on the table. Everyone has gone mad, she knows it, but there's nothing to be done now except fix what's been broken.

"It sounds like your rib has punctured your lung," she tells him gently, a hand on his arm. "I'm going to wrap your chest and it will hurt. I also need to stitch up your wounds. I'm going to give you something for the pain."

She looks to the other man and points. "Clean water, if you don't mind?"

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju nods and turns toward the fireplace, glad enough for her confidence and straightforward manner that he doesn't mind following orders. There's a pot sitting next to the fire, cool now, and he nods to it as he sets it onto the table.

"Boiled," he says of the water, setting a hand absently on Francis' shoulder as he settles there. "I didn't know we had much left for treating pain here. I don't suppose you're using something I could find for him in the woods somewhere."

[goingtobeunwell]

Ah, that would explain the wheezing and the inability to fill his lungs. Those splintered ribs were bound to have traveled, especially after the third or fourth kick from Hickey’s boot.

He makes a noise of agreement to let her treat him how she wants. Things are…uncomfortable. On a scale of whiskey-sickness to tuunbaq claw marks, this is probably on par with having his hand amputated. Somewhere in the middle, not the worst thing he’s ever been through, but certainly something that’ll leave a lasting scar.

“Do what you need to,” he says slowly.

ii.

[meadqueen]

He can probably hear Randvi approaching as soon as she enters the cabin: she's taken to using a walking stick these days, less for support than to help her detect obstacles on her right side. She still can't hunt or climb - going to Lakeside is a distant dream - but she can move around more freely in Milton at least, which is more than poor Francis can say.

“Francis,” she says, voice tight with exhaustion and worry. “I heard you'd been injured.”

[goingtobeunwell]

It's a little like a changing of the guard - Raju leaves and another person takes his place within the cabin. He's overly cautious now, his friend, and he'd be annoyed if he didn't also share some of his worries about further violence.

He's seated by the fire when the door swings open. It's hard to move more than a few feet at a time these days, but he's so completely caught off guard by Randvi's appearance that moves to jump to his feet without thinking.

What happened to her?

"Dear god, Randvi," he winces, grabbing at the back of the chair to steady himself. "Who did that to you?"

[meadqueen]

“Peace,” Randvi calls, raising her free hand in alarm. “Don't harm yourself further on my account! This is not… this happened several weeks ago. It was my fault.”

Indeed, if he takes a closer look as she approaches, the healing scars across the right side of her face do not look fresh enough to have just occurred, though a bandage still wraps around her head to cover her eye.

“What about you, what happened to you?”

II

[solitarysoul]

Levi liked Croizer. The older man seemed to know quite a lot so Levi enjoyed learning new things from him. And something about the old sea captain made him think that Croizer was someone he could trust, or at least someone he wouldn't mind being ordered around by. So a few days after the Solstice he stops by the old man's cabin and knocks.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier's unofficial body guard typically doesn't like leaving him alone in the cabin, but as long as he has a visitor Raju usually feels comfortable enough to run whatever errand's needed in the moment. The two would have crossed paths as Levi walked up to the cabin, giving Crozier ample enough time to very slowly make his way to the door.

He yanks it open, mindful of the way the old door usually catches in the jamb, and clings to the handle to keep himself from falling right over. "Levi, it's good to see you."

His face is still swollen, and horribly bruised, but the combined efforts of Dr. Nazarova and not-doctor A. Rama Raju have put him on the slow path to recovery.

[solitarysoul]

He winches a bit at Crozier's appearance. He wasn't sure what he was expecting in terms of how wounded the other man was, but it didn't look pretty.

"You too, Sir. I just wanted to see how you were doing after, um, all that."

2

[guidemyway]

With all the chaos that's gone on over the last few days it was hard to keep track of who was alright, who was injured, and who had hadn't made it through the night. Ruby had mostly busied herself with clean up afterwards, but when she heard that Crozier had been hurt she made a point to go and visit.

Don't mind the sheepish little knock on the door before she let's herself in.

"Hey- Probably a dumb question to ask how you're holding up. But here it comes anyways."

[goingtobeunwell]

It isn't such a silly question, especially when he steps out into the light and the full extent of what was done to him becomes apparent. He's been beaten out of place, lopsided, and stitched and molded back together with sutures and bandages. He moves oddly and slowly, but there's one side of his face intact, and it's that side that smiles at Ruby now.

"I'm glad to see you," he says instead of answering her. He doesn't know who was hurt and who might have died; he's isolated out here, trapped in the cabin to protect himself from further injury. He nearly didn't make it. "Come sit with me by the fire."

II.

[maintiensledroit]

The rest part of recuperation has always been difficult for him to follow, and it's even more so in the days following the clash of fury and murderous violence that rolled over the people here. He needs to be up, needs to be out, to try and protect who he can, to find the injured and bring them to help, to deescalate rising tempers and tense situations.

But he can't. Just the walk from the center of town to Crozier's cabin has him winded, breathing carefully against his injured ribs. He takes a moment to swallow his frustration before knocking and announcing himself. "Sir? It's Constable Fraser."

Alone; Diefenbaker is back in Lakeside. "May I come in?"

[goingtobeunwell]

The door is locked tightly upon Raju’s insistence. If he has to leave Crozier alone it won’t be without arming him and securing every entrance first, and thus it takes a minute for the door to actually open and allow Fraser inside.

Even as dimly lit as the cabin is, it’s apparent that Crozier’s been knocked around, just as so many of them had that night. It’s apparent to Crozier as well that the good constable might not be in the best shape either, and he invites him inside with a quick move of his hand.

“Taking a stroll through the neighborhood, Constable?”