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

Raju looks to Francis' face and back to his fingers again, solemn. He runs his thumb over Francis' fingertip as slowly as if it could feel him there. "Because you might burn yourself, or get frostbite again?"

He wants to kiss Francis' fingers. He looks down at the hand in his, examining the thought. Or, trying to. It's hard to tell what he should be thinking about it; he reaches for should and there's only want.

Raju wants to be tender with this, with him. Francis deserves that. So he covers the tips of all Francis' fingers with his hand, as if trying to warm them up and squeezes for one second, then another, and then he starts moving the rag slowly over Francis' thumb. "Cooking, or tending the fire... I never knew you couldn't feel what you were touching, when you did that."

Crozier smiles; Raju seems concerned, even a little bothered. He squeezes his fingers and Crozier huffs gently through his nose.

“Mhm. I lost some of the feeling in Antarctica. We experienced a week of horrible storms - I fell asleep on my feet those nights. Then the rest is just wear and tear.”

Nothing he’s concerned with, it’s just an aspect of life for an Arctic explorer.

Raju studies his face. One hand left and he can't feel the tips of its fingers; Francis is made of losses Raju had never imagined before they'd met. Had never allowed himself to imagine. But he's here, in front of Raju, building a life.

Francis may be very casual about the state of his fingers, but Raju wants to be gentle. He runs the rag over them very gently, up one side and down the other, one by one. He runs it over Francis' fingernails. "I'll start with soap next," he murmurs, focusing. "I haven't got your back, but I imagine you won't want to lean forward for that longer than you have to. Or your face. Should I go over your face first?"

His face; he’d forgotten about his face. He considers Raju’s proposal - he’s right, he won’t want to lean forward for very long - and agrees with a nod. “Yes, start with my face. I can turn around for my back and my hair.”

Seems like something he can reasonably do. He braces himself with his arms, folding them against the side of the tub and then leaning himself forward carefully.

“My beard’s matted,” he mutters.

"Mhm." He dips the rag into the water, quickly rubs a couple shreds of soap in, and runs it down the slope of Francis' nose. If he had any reason not to smile right now, it'd be hard to manage; maybe that comes of being so close to Francis' face, looking into his eyes, seeing him leaning forward that way expectantly, waiting for Raju to touch him. Or maybe it comes of the teasing about Francis' beard, old and familiar now and reassuring to go back to when Raju had spent so long knowing he'd never get to go back to any of their conversations again.

"Comes of growing it out so long." Down the other side of Francis' nose, and then over slowly across his cheek. "How long has it been since you trimmed, or washed it? Before... everything?"

Edited 2024-06-22 14:37 (UTC)

He huffs in slight protest, but it’s difficult to be actually insulted when he’s getting his face caressed by a wash cloth. He twists his head to bring his cheek to meet Raju’s hand. “I wash it regularly, thank you very much.”

But trimming it…well. He hasn’t had a proper shave since Terror Camp dissolved.

“It’s been years since I’ve had a shave. As you can probably tell.” The Netsilik never shaved - they plucked. It just didn’t seem worth the struggle.

Francis turns his cheek into Raju's hand and Raju breathes out slowly. He rubs his thumb back and forth, feeling the curving shape under his skin through the rumpled cloth. His other hand reaches out, wanting to touch still, and settles lightly over the back of Francis' neck. "I can wash it for you too, once we're closer to the fire."

Francis might not have complained about being cold here, and given how much better he is with the cold than Raju, might not be, but Raju doesn't want to keep him here naked and chilly longer than he needs to. From Francis' cheek he moves the rag toward Francis' ear, brushing the line of his beard on the way and smiling at it. "It must not grow too quickly. A pair of scissors wouldn't hurt, though."

Edited 2024-06-22 17:33 (UTC)

Settling down in front of the fire for a nice scrub sounds downright heavenly. He tries to keep wandering thoughts out of it, like what other feelings he might have with both of Raju’s hands in his beard. It’s hard enough as it is to not stare into his eyes while he washes his face and cups the back of his neck so tenderly.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he says. “I could do with a trim. You might even be able to talk me into a proper shave at this rate.”

Raju's starting up the side of Francis' face toward his forehead when Francis says that last, and when he does Raju's gaze moves back to Francis' eyes, and his smile is wide.

"Is that so?" he asks, delighted, then watches his hand moving back and forth above Francis' brow. There's something about the idea, not only of seeing Francis a little more cleanly shaven but of doing it himself while Francis sits just the way he is now, waiting trustingly while Raju's hands move over him. "I thought you liked it the way it was. Getting sick of it now?"

“Ease of maintenance,” he replies, less-battered side of his face pulling into a smirk that reaches his eyes. “It wasn’t as though I needed to worry about society expectations, and I didn’t have anyone to impress.” Let Raju read into that as he will.

“But if you want to hack away at a few years worth of beard growth, be my guest.”

Raju beams at him, and the hand at Francis' neck moves to his beard for a moment, his thumb rubbing briefly over the line of Francis' jaw.

"Good. Start thinking about what you want me to do with it," he says, and moves his hand to the base of Francis head this time, and the one holding the rag turns Francis' face gently so he can wipe it down the other side. As much as he'd like to take more time here, half his face is the beard Raju's going to be tending to later, and leaning forward like this doesn't seem as comfortable for Francis anyway.

Ears next; he adds more soap, then scrubs quickly behind them. "Do you want me to trim your hair too? I only know how to trim to the one length but I think it looks fine enough."

He leans into the touch a bit, only as long as Raju leaves his hand there, then it’s back to business. He twists his head as he’s scrubbed and washed and rinsed, moving to assist Raju as he roams over his face and head, eyes flickering shut when the touch becomes just a little too good.

“If you’d like,” he murmurs. “If you get tired of beautifying this old man you can stop any time you wish.”

He sighs and attempts to sit up a little, body starting to become stiff in this position. “You’ll leave me to do the rest of it, yes?”

Raju looks up, looking surprised. "Oh, ah. Of course." Belatedly, he remembers to smile, and busies himself pulling the stool with the dish of soap on it where Francis will be able to reach it more easily. But it was kind of Francis to allow Raju to do this in the first place, and his smile softens as he runs his wet, soapy hand over Francis' hair. For a moment, he cups the back of Francis' head, looks at him there bare and soft and trusting, smiles at him.

Raju remembers himself and lets go, pushing himself to his feet and then frowning at the wet spot the gesture left on his trousers. For a second he grimaces at the spot — he'd forgotten not to touch his clothes with that hand, he'd been focusing on other things — then turns his attention to Francis again. "I'll be in the next room when you're finished. Or if you want me back for..."

He pauses, wondering why he'd— but he's already started to say it now, and he can't afford to pause for too long. "...anything. And I'll have some clean clothes for you."

He nods, then leaves. He won't spend too much time looking for clothes, too focused on listening for any worrying noises from the lavatory, but he knows where his softest clothes are, and finding them shouldn't take long.

The second the door shuts Crozier feels himself sink in on himself, leaning his face against his arm and trying to suck in a few deep, gulping breaths. Jesus. He’d nearly leaned in. He’d nearly tried to -

It doesn’t matter, the moment’s over, and he managed to get through it without embarrassing himself. The point is he didn't try to kiss Raju, even if for a split second he could have seen the moment reflected back in his friend’s eyes.

Crozier finishes up his bath, scrubbing with the soap and lukewarm water until his skin is rubbed raw and red. He feels better, certainly smells better. He sets the cloth aside and rinses himself off with the rest of the water, gasping very quietly as it runs down his face and then just sitting there a moment. Just thinking. Waiting, though for god knows what.

Eventually he starts to shiver, and that’s his sign that it’s time to ask for help. “Raju,” he calls out softly, grabbing a towel from the floor to cover himself. “I need you.”

Getting back out of the tub is going to be a thousand times worse than getting into it.

There's only a second's pause between Francis calling out to him and Raju opening the door and he relaxes after he does it, smiling again. Francis' tone had been a quiet one, not urgent, but it's still good to see it for himself.

It hadn't taken long, once Francis had been out of his line of sight. It's frustrating; Francis is a full grown man, captained a ship for years, he's survived countless threats before Raju had ever known him. But—

Nevermind anything else. He's spent too long thinking about it already, and now isn't the time. Raju comes further into the room, setting aside the folded jumper Francis had picked out all that time ago and the softest pair of pajama bottoms he could find to match it, and his gaze moves over Francis closely, automatically.

"If you lean forward I can tuck this in at your back," he says, kneeling and reaching toward the edge of the towel, wanting to tug it up a little. His smile deepens into something almost satisfied when he does it, when he feels Francis' stomach against the backs of his fingers. He hadn't expected that too to feel... Well. Powerful, in a way he hadn't expected something so simple could be. "How are you feeling?"

He wouldn’t be surprised if Raju had just been lingering on the other side of the lavatory door. He shakes his head in gentle exasperation as Raju immediately gets back to fussing after him.

“Yes, yes,” he says, shivering once more as Raju attempts to fidget with the towel around him. It isn’t from the cold.

He answers the question at hand with a little grunt, reaching for Raju’s shoulder for support and holding tight. “Like a wrung-out old flannel, but in the best possible way. I’m starting to feel chilled, would you believe it?”

"I can take care of that," he murmurs, focusing on tucking one corner of the towel in and folding it down at the waist, so it'll stay in place when Francis stands. "I don't know how you do it," he goes on, gripping Francis under the arm with one hand and keeping the other ready to try and catch him — carefully, his hip's one of the few places that isn't healing, so maybe there would be safe — if Francis slips on the way up.

"I start shivering the moment I strip down to wash in here, if the water isn't warm enough. Here we go; I'll stand slowly."

He's not very steady on his feet, but beyond a little wobble as he initially stands he manages to keep himself upright fairly well. He leans against him as he takes that big step over the side of the tub, glad at least for the modesty granted by the towel tucked neatly around his waist.

It's warm with Raju tucked against him, which makes the cold-weather shivers temporarily stop. "Acclimation," he tells him. "And stubbornness. But as you see I'm not immune to the cold entirely."

"Mm." Francis is half-pressed against him. He smells, now, mostly of soap. He feels warm. Or maybe Raju only feels warm against him; the skin of his back is soft and chilled as Raju runs his free hand up Francis' spine and down it again. "Well, the fire's going again, and those should be warm." He nods to the clothes he's brought. "Maybe not as much as you're used to. I can get something else..."

Raju's gaze moves over Francis' bared skin again, focused and thoughtful, from his neck to his chest to his stomach, down the towel to his calves and feet. He's going to be dressed soon, so Raju takes the image in. Maybe he'll be wanting some socks too. And a blanket. That always helps Raju a little.

"You do smell much better," he says as his gaze finds its way back to Francis' face, instead of asking about socks, then huffs out a quiet laugh at himself.

"Praise god, you can stand downwind from me."

He smirks a little, trying to ignore the feeling of Raju's eyes roaming over him. They're on his shoulders and then skim the injuries on his chest - as he would expect- the his towel-covered waist and hips, down to his legs. He squares his jaw a little and takes a step towards the clothes, that soft-looking jumper calling his name.

Crozier lets go of Raju to pick up the soft shirt, thumb swiping over the fabric in appreciation. The trousers look equally as warm, and are probably the more sensible place to start. "You didn't happen to find any smallclothes, did you?"

It'd be warmer with clothes underneath, but he isn't going anywhere, is he? Despite what Raju's answer would be he carries on, trading the jumper for the trousers and attempting to step into one of the legs.

"Oh, you want to wear them now?" He grins, then puts a hand on Francis' shoulder to help him balance as starts dressing. "I can find another pair like those to wear over them. Or, ah."

His face feels a little hot again. But there's no reason for it. It's the only solution he has. He focuses on watching Francis step into the pajama bottoms and says it anyway. "You can wear a pair of my drawers, if you really want something. They're clean, of course. And I can find socks for you."

He chuckles quietly at the light teasing, putting one leg in, pausing briefly to catch his breath, then slipping in the other. He lets towel drop as he pulls up the trousers, swaying a little in between movements as the exhaustion that’s crept into his body from the beginning of this starts to show. It’s been well worth it though; he feels a hell of a lot better than he did at the start of all of this.

There’s a moment where the usual debate about ‘inner versus outer thoughts’ quiets in his head, allowing Crozier to just speak with all that pesky seconding guessing. The opportunity to tease is too great, and he’s already smirking going into it. “If you wanted me in your drawers you need only ask.”

Raju's eyes are a little wide, his mouth is open. His skin is even hotter now; his cheeks and neck will be going a little darker.

Francis is joking. Of course he's joking. Raju huffs a quiet, hopefully amused sounding breath and lets go of Francis to pick up his abandoned towel, watching himself fold it. It'd be easier to laugh if he didn't want so badly to take him seriously. He used to be better at at least looking amused when he wasn't. What happened to that?

But that was when talking to people who didn't matter, and this is different.

"I'll have to ask another time." He smiles a little, tucking the towel under one arm and putting the other on Francis' back. "Let's get you sitting back down first. You can put on the sweater on the way."

“Later, then.” It wasn’t his intent to watch the reaction to his cheek closely, but he spots the stunned look on his face and decides he’ll have to file that away for later pondering.

It’s probably better to finish dressing in front of the fire, so Crozier starts in the direction of the adjoining room. He lets himself continue to be guided, of course, that reassuring hand on his back grounding his movements and reminding him not to go too fast.

The room with the fire is so much cozier than the lavatory. He lets out the quietest of sighs as he finds his way to a chair.

The sigh makes Raju smile. His face is still hot but the feeling is fading, and he’s trying not to think about it. It might have been easier to react naturally if he hadn’t just spent so much time with his hands on Francis’ naked skin, looking at him, so there’s no reason to worry about it until next time Francis needs him to do the same thing. There are more immediate things to focus on, anyway.

Francis is going to be putting that sweater on soon, though. Raju moves toward the pile of blankets on the floor, looking back so his eyes can flicker over Francis. “Would you like your hair washed now?” he asks, once his eyes have discovered Francis’ face again. “Or do you need to rest?”

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