singillatim | seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house

seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's in abject misery. He thought it couldn't get any worse bruised and battered as he was, head split open in places and body swollen and twisted mostly useless. He assumed the pain would be something he'd be eager to leave behind - lord knows he'd begged for reprieve when the whiskey was working its way out of his system, and then prayed to a god he wasn't sure he believed in anymore while his left arm was healing.

But no, apparently it's far worse to be halfway healed than it is fully invalided, because he can't do anything about it. He can't help Raju with the chores or venture out to forage and fish. He can't cook, can't clean, can't mend - he can barely take care of himself! At least when he was still mostly broken he spent his time sleeping, and the expectation wasn't for him to get up and move about to help with his healing. But this?

It's goddamned misery.

He's up now, midway through his afternoon walk from one side of the cabin to the other, when he finally snaps. It's the look on Raju's face that does it, having pricked his fingers a thousand times over because this is what it takes to survive, little pinpricks of pain in between just trying to sustain the two of them. At least Raju's taken to resting when he's not asking Crozier to drink more water or insisting on changing and inspecting his bandages right at that very moment, but it's clearly not enough.

He's run this poor man into the ground, and still he has another favor to ask of him. An embarrassing favor too, one that he's been absolutely dreading but increasingly sees the need for it with each excruciating day that passes.

"I need your help," he says with a grimace, pausing to survey the meltwater by the fire. It's warm but not boiled yet, the perfect recipe for bathwater. "With bathing. I can't do it on my own, and if I wait another day I might crawl out of my own goddamned skin."

Crozier ducks his head. Raju's seen him at his most vulnerable already, in the hot springs, when tending to his wounds, but this is different. He needs him to touch him.

I need your help he says and Raju's chin lifts, alert, and he sits up ramrod straight. Francis would be acting different if it was some kind of emergency, he knows that, he... almost knows that. He doesn't quite know that, and when Francis elaborates Raju huffs out an amused, relieved breath, the line of his shoulders relaxing, smile curving over his face.

"I was wondering if you'd ask." He looks down at his hands — can't trust himself to do it without looking, he's getting used to that — to put the needle in the cloth for later, then sets it aside. It's something he might have suggested himself before when wanting to touch him so badly was the natural result of feeling the way that he does. But maybe it is still, because how does Raju feel about him anyway? It'd seemed very easy to categorize before, when being a man meant he had been simply a very dear friend, and that had been all that there was to it. And the pull he feels toward Francis is tangled up with fear, now, this desperate need to reassure himself that all is well and to make sure of it by taking care of him.

So he hadn't asked.

It's a relief, being asked to do it now. Being asked means he gets to stop thinking about whether he should, and it's been dawning on Raju that introspection might not be a strength. Like reassuring dying men.

He takes a slow breath to try and wash the thoughts away and focuses on Francis again, standing. He moves closer, following Francis' ducked head and the urge that comes from somewhere to set a hand on the back of Francis' neck. The smell of him is worse this close. Raju wants to scratch his fingers into Francis' hair anyway, somehow, and so he starts doing it while he talks. "Do you think you could make it to the lavatory? We can do it just as well in here, but it won't matter how wet we get the floor, with the tiles."

Edited 2024-06-19 11:52 (UTC)

Wondering if he’d ask, or hoping? To paraphrase one of his dearest friends, he probably smells like a thousand-year-old armpit, all the sweat in his hair and under his arms. But it’s very kind of Raju not to say so, and to still want to touch him (and doing so without making a face).

“Mhm.” He’s fairly certain he can make that walk; he’s getting stronger and stronger every day, after all. Not so strong that he can bathe himself, of course, but his stamina for things like standing and moving is growing to the point where he can tolerate longer and longer walks. “I’m for convenience these days.”

But he does extend his hand to him, hoping that the silent plea for assistance will be enough. He needs to lean on him for this, will need the help to remove his clothes and lower himself onto the seat or in the tub, depending on how Raju wishes to do this. He’s putting himself entirely in his hands.

Being vulnerable isn’t a new situation for Crozier, but being vulnerable like this, with Raju and those heavy eyelashes and expressive eyes, is downright humiliating. He has to stop thinking of it that way - trusted friends may do this, and it’s entirely acceptable - but those strong feelings of admiration and love are hard to stamp out entirely. He just doesn’t want Raju to see him as a sad, old, invalid.

Francis holds out his hand and Raju sets his forearm underneath Francis' and clasps near his elbow, giving him something steady to lean against, and wraps his other arm around Francis' shoulder while they walk. It's a relief to do it, both to feel Francis against him and to do something that helps.

The lavatory is as it always is, bathtub and facilities and tiled floor, bucket of meltwater next to the toilet, soap shavings and rags sitting in a dish beside the tub. The bucket smelling of pine needles is new — Francis had been sleeping while Raju'd been boiling and straining it and setting it in here, or he's mostly sure Francis had been sleeping, but they aren't going to wash with it today anyway. Only the real soap is going to do.

"The tub might be easier to lean back against," Raju notes. But they'll need to take Francis' clothes off before they do anything else. The wild things knotted up inside him try to get his attention when he thinks it but it doesn't matter what he feels about the matter, or why exactly he wants it; Francis needs it, and needs it from Raju, and that's all that Raju needs to be sure about. He knows it's a relief to be able to help, and feels right to be the one Francis is counting on in this way, and that's enough. The logistics of how to do any of this are the only thing that matter much outside that. "But getting in and out of it might be tricky. What do you think?"

Crozier holds a quick debate within himself - awkwardly step inside the tub, knowing there’d be a struggle to get back out, or sit on the seat and make an enormous mess for Raju to clean. There’s a clear winner.

“Convenience,” he says again, motioning towards the tub. “You’ll have to help haul me out, but it’ll feel better on my sides.”

Only a slight lie, it would probably feel better to sit with his back against the side of the tub than have to hold himself upright.

He takes his hand back to grip the sink and steady himself, physically and mentally. He needs the help now, Raju needs to strip him down because he can’t do it fully on his own. He glances towards him and then back towards the tub, hemming and hawing for a few seconds more before he’s attempting to pull the tunic up over his head.

“I need a change of clothes,” he sighs, waiting with the tunic tucked up under his chin for Raju to assist, signaling him with a brief glance. If he keeps talking through it maybe it won’t be quite so awkward for them both. “The fit might work for some of the things you brought from the other cabin.”

At the glance Raju moves close again, eyes darting here and there as he tries to decide how to pull the tunic over him in a way that will hurt Francis the least. He'd hesitated before he'd done it; had he hesitated when they'd been in those caves about to step into the water, too? With everything that'd happened after they hadn't gone back in the way they'd intended to, and at the time Raju thinks he might have been too excited to be warm to pay as much attention to Francis as he might have otherwise. Keeping his manner matter of fact about this is the best course anyway.

"That soft thing you picked out when we were packing up," Raju notes, glancing at Francis' face with a smile before looking back at the careful efforts of his hands pulling the shirt over Francis' chin and gently up over his face. "That would do. I don't think you've worn it yet."

Something soft. He’d nearly forgotten about the something soft, but it sounds absolutely heavenly. “That should do,” he says, voice muffled temporarily by the sealskin being pulled over his head.

It feels good to be without it, just as it does when his tunic’s pulled up and those bandages are changed. He looks down at his own chest to inspect the bruises, still an angry-looking mix of purple, red, and yellow. But they’re better. Everything is slowly becoming better.

He decides to take the trousers off before the bandages, for practicality’s sake. His thumb hooks into the waistband and he turns slightly, facing away from Raju, even if there’s no use hiding anything now. It’s slow work getting them down over his hips, and he pauses when he gets them down to his knees and can’t duck any lower.

“Help me step out? Just hold me steady.”

Francis had been naked in the caves then, too. They both had been. But Raju hadn't seen much.

He had seen that Francis doesn't wear anything underneath his trousers. He'd seen that, and he'd felt... A little like he feels now, probably, being so clearly reminded of it.

Raju keeps himself from clearing his throat by force of will and, in the same way, raising his eyes when they want to linger over Francis' hip and the curve of his side as he bends down. The man's moving so slowly because he's in pain, Raju thinks, raising his hands hurriedly toward Francis' shoulders, away from the hips that he could be holding. Francis is in pain right now, and this is ridiculous.

"My trousers would be tight on you though," he says and wonders why he'd said it when the size Raju wears isn't the only size they have here, and then hurries onward, words sounding just a little hurried too. "But I can find something else. Some of the larger ones are more comfortable anyway."

Crozier makes a soft noise in response, unbothered by Raju’s suggestion or how unprompted it seemed to be. He’s more concerned with not falling the hell over or further exacerbating his injuries -

But he can see Raju is staring a little. He can’t see himself unfortunately, but he knows the rest of him will start going red starting with his ears if this keeps up. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, he’s distracted by the lifting of each leg and that uncomfortable little wiggle he has to do to get the hem of the trouser off of his feet.

Once he’s naked, completely and thoroughly bare aside from the bandages around his chest, there aren’t any further tasks to distract the two of them. He needs Raju’s hands on him now, unfurling the bandages from his healing ribs.

“Should I…should I sit first?” he asks quietly. All he can be is humble in this moment, standing stark naked in front of this very handsome man who makes him laugh and has given himself wholly to him to care for his weakened self.

Raju hums thoughtfully, his wandering gaze alert again. Francis might be… here, all of him is very present, every inch of him is very present for any pair of eyes that might take an instant to move down—

Well. In any case, above any of that, Francis is trusting him, and that’s more than enough to put his mind onto the track it needs to be.

“I think so. You won’t want to move too much without your ribs bound. Here, take my hand again, and then I’ll get some water for us. Unless you’d like me to use that bucket there.”

Raju nods toward the one next to the toilet, melted but in this colder room further from the fire certainly not warm, but with a grin. “Nothing wrong with a bracing cold bath.”

His hand wraps around Raju’s and he takes the initial step on his own, moving slowly and with the slightest of winces as he lifts himself up and over the side. They were right to keep the bandages on, his ribs would have protested at being shifted around as he rose and then lowered himself into the tub.

Crozier slips his hand back out from Raju’s and braces the side of the tub as he sits, catching his breath with the smallest of smirks. “As though I haven’t bathed with ice water before,” he snorts. “We’d have to break the ice on the top of our washbasins every morning. I won’t complain either way.”

“Mm. Well, there’ll be no ice bath for you today.” Only after running a hand over Francis hair does it occur to Raju to think twice about where the impulse is coming from, when he feels the soft smile on his face, that the kind of tenderness which had felt so natural before —- which feels so natural now — might not actually be the natural extension of friendship which Francis wouldn’t wonder about. He moves his gaze and hands down to the gauze, businesslike.

The way Francis has to sit in the tub means his thighs block Raju’s view of anything too personal. Once he’s already looking that way, Raju’s mind notes the detail for him. He steers it back to the movements of his hands over the gauze, familiar now, and the gentle way of nudging Francis to sit forward so Raju can unwrap the gauze from behind him.

“Why did you wait so long?” he asks as he watches his hands move. “To ask for this, I mean. I would have been happy to do it earlier.”

There’s a release of pressure, both good and bad, as the bandages unravel from his chest. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, but not everything is set and sturdy yet and he immediately misses the support. He cradles himself slightly with his left arm, right still holding onto the tub for support.

He can’t quite meet Raju’s eye, looking at the corner of the bathroom molding, the angle of the cabinets, the discolored tiling. He doesn’t want to tell him, ‘you already see me as a burden, I’d hate for you to see me as pathetic’, so he mulls over his answer.

“Hanging onto my last ounce of dignity, I suppose. I thought I could manage, but when it became apparent I couldn’t…you’ve already done so much for me, Raju.”

At that last Raju looks up, surprised, his hands pausing. “I like doing things for you,” he smiles. This, at least, he doesn’t have to second guess the nature or appropriateness of at all; doing something for people who matter is what he’s for. It feels good. It feels better.

Particularly now, it feels better.

He starts unwinding the bandages again, and paying close attention to that allows his voice to keep coming out evenly, thankfully empty of any of the emotions that would actually be behind it, if Raju was stupid enough to go looking for them, while still being honest. “Being able to do anything for you is a gift.”

A gift. Because he’d been dying, these moments of healing weren’t guaranteed. He nods somberly.

It brings him back to those strange moments after he’d collapsed in the snow. Raju had been there. He remembers his voice - specifics beyond him, naturally - the way he’d been held and shifted about until there’d been enough comfort to sleep. He remembers very vaguely speaking to him, but try as he might he hasn’t been able to recall what was said.

“You were there,” he says after a moment, studying the very clean bandages that get removed from him. Raju is too attentive for anything else. “When I wasn’t aware of anything else, I knew you were there.”

A bit like a guardian angel, if he believed in that nonsense. No, more like a human amulet, a charm, something to keep away the bad energy in the world, that’s Raju to him.

“How do you thank someone in your native tongue?”

When I wasn’t aware of anything else, I knew you were there.

Raju's hands slow, then stop again. His gaze, for once, isn't seeing the man in front of him. All that time when he'd thought... And even when Francis might not have been dying, it'd all still felt so useless. He'd tried anyway, he doesn't know how to do anything else, but—

Then Francis asks how to thank him and some warm wave starts spreading out through Raju's chest, and spreads over his face as he looks into Francis' again. "I don't know if it'll work here, if I speak a language you won't understand," he murmurs. For a moment he only looks at Francis, looking surprised and soft.

"Dhanyavadamulu," he says, still quietly. The word comes out sounding the way it's supposed to, at least for him, and when his hands start finishing up with the bandages they move more slowly. He'll have to leave the room once he's done, if only for a few minutes, and doesn't really want to. Not because of fear, this time. It's a welcome change.

"I didn't know you were... aware, for any of that time." Easier to say this when he isn't looking at Francis, so he watches his hands again. "Except the once. And it seemed like you were dreaming most of the time after that. I didn't think you noticed me."

Edited 2024-06-20 02:38 (UTC)

Phrases seem to work. He doesn't know why that is, but the little pieces of Inuktitut that sometimes slip from his mouth seem to remain as he's spoken them. He's heard French, Spanish, Latin - it seems to be a matter of wanting to be understood, rather than the direct or literal translation.

He's going to need Raju to repeat himself though. He has a knack for picking up languages, but he needs to hear it a few more times before he can wrap his brain around the new sounds. It's lovely, that one little piece of himself from home. Raju sounds like he should as he curls his lips and tongue around the language from his home.

The conversation shifts; he frowns softly. "Barely," he tells him. "Barely aware. The once?"

Raju frowns, lips parted for a moment before he answers. "You don't remember?" It isn't really a question. For a moment he's quiet. There are... things. That Francis should know, if he doesn't remember. Aren't there?

He should know, so Raju tells him. He looks the bandages over intently as he finishes unwinding them, inspecting every inch as if he's going to find something hidden there. "You were... We were both sure it was the last time we'd ever... speak. You asked, if you died. That I should warn people about Hickey. I didn't want to hear it.

"But I went to that meeting," he hurries to add, glancing at Francis' face and looking back down after. "And you needed someone here. And there wasn't anyone else, so I had to wait."

The bandage is off. Inch by inch, Raju inspects the underside of it. "Then..." He shrugs. "You said you cared for me. You slept. They seemed like terrible dreams, and sitting you up to bandage you wasn't... easy for you either. It's probably better that you don't remember much."

Edited 2024-06-20 11:48 (UTC)

Ah. It makes sense that he’d want Raju to warn the others. Not kill Hickey outright for him, though he remembers promising to personally string him up during that awful fight. It’ll happen again, Hickey preying on someone alone and vulnerable, and again, and again if Hickey’s given the chance - Goodsir laid out on the table, but this time it’s Jopson or Little, Kate or Zoey or Ruby or -

Or Raju, stabbed and then carved up for Hickey to pick over at his leisure.

He’d said he cared for Raju. He says it so casually, almost flippantly, but Crozier feels the bottom drop out from his stomach. How much had he said?

“Yes,” he says quietly, conflicted. “It’s probably for the best.” But it seems like something he should remember. It all seems like something he should remember, giving Raju a task to complete while his friend’s too busy being horrifying at the sight of his friend dying, telling him that he cares because he knew he wasn’t likely to wake again.

“I’m sure I meant it,” he murmurs, exhaling softly as he’s fully bared. “When I said that I cared.”

Raju glances up again with a frown. "I know you do," he says, confused that that's the part Francis found unusual enough to note among all the awful detritus of the horrible dragging slog that those few days had been, and looks away again. "After everything you've said and done for me, you still think I don't?"

Despite everything that comes with remembering that time, with even so briefly describing any of it, Raju finds his tone leaning fonder toward the end, and finds himself smiling. Which is probably a good thing, anyway, it'll soften the question. "What more do you think you have to do, exactly? For me to know?"

It's that part, telling Raju that he cares, that makes him worried he'd put too much onto his shoulders and was trying to soften the burden. It isn't something he'd do - he wouldn't possibly so callous - but he can't trust his feverish and half-dying mind to have done the right thing.

He does care. If anything makes sense, it'd be his need to tell him before he fell asleep and didn't wake again.

"You know what Hickey did, that's all I need you to know. It seems the chaos of the evening wasn't limited to him and I. If he's not actively on the prowl there's nothing to prevent." He brings his hand up to his hair, thinking to brush it back before he realizes it's probably too matted for that. "We can't build the gallows, just you and I."

Raju looks up, listening attentively, then hums in agreement. It's not a deathbed promise now, which doesn't mean that Raju didn't... well, it's Francis' say what they need to do about Hickey now, anyway. "Certainly not when you can't even pick up a hammer yet," he says, clasping Francis' shoulder very carefully as he stands. I'll go put these to soak and get the water, then we'll start."

A minute later he's back with a rag and the water that'd been melting and then warming by the fire, setting it down beside the tub and kneeling next to it, pulling the dish of soap closer on its box. Francis is still beautiful sitting there waiting for him, soft and pale. But Francis has still asked him to do this for a specific purpose, too. It'll be good, in any case, to try and wash away the memories of what he's just been filling Francis in on by doing something. "I know you'll be wanting to do some of this," he says, dipping the rag into the water, "but I'd like to do as much of it as you'll let me. Where should I start? What's been bothering you the most?"

While he waits Crozier rests his head on his forearm, eyes unfocused as he thinks about those moments he can’t remember. It bothers him that he doesn’t know the specifics, but Raju will never say more.

When Raju returns with the various accoutrements and takes his place by the tub Crozier slowly lifts himself back up, though his right arm still grips the side. It’s a mix of worries, falling over and the anticipation of Raju’s hands on him.

“I haven’t been able to wash my chest or under my arms,” he admits with a soft grunt. “My back. And of course my hair and beard.” He’s sure he looks even more the part of a wild man.

At this point though there’s very little he won’t agree to. He’s already naked and in the tub; what’s left of his dignity to spare?

"So, everything above the waist." Raju smiles, amused and pleased, and leans forward, touching the wet cloth to the spot between Francis' neck and shoulder and sweeping it across, slowly. Just water, for now, not soap; he could start with that, but there's no reason not to give Francis time to relax into it first, is there? His hand slows as he watches water drip from Francis' shoulder and down over his chest.

Before he can watch it move further he directs his eyes back, hand moving the cloth down over Francis' arm. Paying attention to anything below the shoulders is something he can figure out how to manage once he gets there. "I can do that. But I've never done this before. Not like this. You'll have to tell me if there's anything more you want."

If there’s anything more he wants. God, why say that? Were it not for the recent major trauma it might have gotten very awkward very quickly, though he doesn’t trust himself to let his mind wander. He might still have those unintended consequences, broken ribs and head wound and all.

“This is more than fine,” he answers, not letting himself make eye contact as he feels the cloth roam.

Better than fine. The cloth feels good against his skin, the water is warm, and Raju’s touch just the right type of pressure. He tilts his head to one side to allow Raju better access, purposely thinking about difficult (and unattractive) things like chores and having to walk back to Milton for supplies.

He can manage this.

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