singillatim | improvise. adapt. overcome →

Entry tags:

improvise. adapt. overcome →

Who: Takashi Shirogane +
What: Surviving
When: Permanent Log for all (mis)adventures
Where: Town + Nearby Areas

Content Warnings:

‘ghost’ horror; hauntings; death of npcs; (wild) animal attacks; character injury; themes of suicide; themes of depression; feelings of isolation; potential attempted suicide; PTSD triggers; mention of imprisonment; physical violence; body dysmorphia

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[ the flames are purple. it’s such an obvious thing to see that it sounds unbelievable to say that now, moments into a wide-eyed stare, that fact is just beginning to dawn on him. a mix of yellow and orange flames, backdropped by black, billowing smoke, those are the colors he should be seeing. he knows this, and yet, the sky remains clear and the cabin is consumed only in shades of purple. something is wrong. something is… unnatural.

those observations are just as obvious as before; so much so that he feels dull-witted to even be caught wasting moments to go through them. nothing about their time here has been normal or natural or right; why is he surprised at this point? stupid. survival hinges on a laundry list, like skill, brawn, and luck, to name a few. the lesser knowns are selfishness, stubbornness, and an unquestioning adaptability that relies on reaction, rather than understanding.

shiro has already misstepped. he let himself get caught up in the shock of it all, pausing long enough to ask a stupid question, instead of setting his guard and going on the defense. it may sound so minute, but it’s in that lapse that keith manages to get a few steps in, saying something about doing something…?

what?

shiro rips his gaze from the burning building and looks to keith. to his back, more accurately, because he’s walking toward those purple flames and – ]

No!

[ shiro is caught up in two of his long strides, metal hand reaching out to clamp down on keith’s wrist. once upon a time, there was a better version of shiro; one who liked looking out for those around him. one who could afford to spread himself thin and be generous. the wailing continues, but shiro is deaf to it now, because they were in this same position not too long ago, with shiro reaching for keith as keith slipped further and further away. last time, it was to sharpened teeth and a watery, would-be grave. now, it’s to purple flames and a coffin in the form of a burning, collapsing house. ]

You aren’t going anywhere near that.

[ uncertain of what he can actually do, but gripped by the need to do something about the screaming, keith's progress is slow but steady -- at least until shiro locks onto his wrist. mind elsewhere, keith doesn't stop until the force of shiro's grip pulls his arm and shoulder back, and inertia twists him partly around to look his best friend in the eye.

still staring wide-eyed, it takes keith a moment to heave a deep breath and blink through the dissociative fog brought upon by the agonized screaming. years ago, the fire chief had to explain the circumstances of his dad's death to him at the county hospital.

framkly, keith hadn't understood. not really. the fire chief had said something along the lines about his dad going into a burning building despite everyone telling him not to. couldn't tell him otherwise. wrought with grief, keith couldn't bring himself to truly imagine what his dad's last moments were like or what compelled him to try a rescue that everyone else had given up on.

on planet arus, keith had gotten a glimpse of what his dad had come face to face with, but he'd been shielded from having to process any of it. after all, sendak had been dangerously close to seizin both the castleship and all five lions. here, he isn't shielded from anything. the screams coming from inside the burning house are raw and visceral with misery, and keith wants to fuckign throw up.

maybe there'd been someone screaming just like this the night his dad died. maybe not. keith looks to shiro, expression lost as whatever defiance he had falters. ]

I'm not?

[ his voice comes out too quietly for it to be a challenge to shiro's order. even so, a freshly mangled scream as a loud thud hits the back of the front door makes keith flinch and look back towards the burning house.

another slam, and another, until finally the front door opens by fractions. a ghostly figure wearing charred clothing emerges, crawling on all fours with one leg dragging behind at a twisted angle. severely burned, the man's features have practically melted off his face, distorted with cooked and blistering flesh and burned wisps for hair. he collapses onto the porch, coughing while trying to call for help.

keith looks back to shiro, eyes squeezed shut as he mutters: ]

Shiro, please...

[ please, what? let keith go so he can try and help? get keith out of there? honestly, he couldn't even say. ]

[ it’s too chaotic for shiro to truly understand what it is keith is going through. yes, shiro has the bare bones backstory of how keith became an orphan, but no, it isn’t so ingrained in his psyche that he puts the pieces together here. not yet. not when every thought process is already overwhelmed with purple flames, looping screams, and a boy who has no concept of self-preservation. these days, shiro makes a conscious effort to favor his left hand, especially when it comes to making contact with anyone; keith in particular. he doesn’t have the luxury to censor himself here, though. he continues to hold tight to keith’s wrist, metal fingers appropriately steel-like in how he holds and holds, not budging in the least, despite keith making no further move to pull away.

i’m not?

the muttering is so quiet that shiro nearly misses it under the far noisier chaos. a swift reinforcement of no, keith is not going over there, is the appropriate response. shiro falters, however. not his grip, not his frown, not the tension in his body… but a solid twist of his insides, right there behind his sternum has him missing the cue of a verbal response. god, keith looks so lost.

shiro still isn’t quite there in recognizing the trigger-point of a house fire and keith’s firefighter father. instead, he aches with sympathy for keith’s innocence. disciplinary issue, delinquent, deadbeat; shiro has never prescribed to the labels others put on keith. he’s a sweet boy. a touch shy, too. still, it’s such an odd moment for shiro to think, he’s really grown up, but it happens all the same, because yes, even though shiro has only ever known keith to have a good heart, he’s been immensely jaded, too. there was indeed a time in which keith would have simply looked the other way, too closed off to the world to even consider getting involved. but now…?

is this how he is as a paladin of voltron? defeating the galra and saving the universe is the tagline keith has told him a few times now, but what does that actually boil down to? sticking his neck out for the little guy, right?

right here, right now, shiro is equal parts proud and frustrated. proud of keith for his giving, protective nature, yet in the same breath, frustrated that shiro is finding himself in the position again of worrying. how many times is shiro going to have to keep keith from getting himself killed?

shiro, please…

the body on the porch is sickening. even with the distance, the details of its disfiguration are not muted. they stand out with the kind of clarity that sinks in deep and burns into his memory, going so far as to unearth the anguished faces of others shiro met in the arena. fire had never been one of shiro’s weapons, but even so, there is not much difference in the end: death is death. he recognizes that look, the panicked resignation that the end is coming. it’s there, even in melted flesh and charred patches of skin.

it’s a look shiro refuses to ever see from keith. ]

We can’t help him.

[ he doesn’t coax keith in, he drags him in. one strong yank and a corralling of his left arm has shiro caging keith in closer, further cutting off any possibility of keith breaking away. he does all of this without looking at keith. his gaze is still set on that body – that corpse. something isn’t right here; that thought continues to loop in his head and soon enough, it’s proven true as there’s a… glitch? it isn’t just a trick of the light from those odd flames. the body is spectral-like. not quite translucent, but not solid. ghostly, almost?

what is going on? ]

It’s too late. He’s already – [ dead is the optimal word. first, though, there’s another flicker in the lines of that body and then poof, it’s gone. shiro’s expression slacks, as does his hold on keith. ] He’s gone.

[ the grip on his wrist only tightens further, and with a hard tug, keith is forced to take a step forward. away from the burning house, away from the disfigured man, and towards shiro. keith really ought to resent this, being yanked around like a small child, but then there are arms on either side of him, holding him tight, and all the pointless resistance crumbles to dust.

the man... ghost.. whatever that came crawling out of the burning house had been horrific to look at, and even with his eyes on shiro, the after-image is still seared onto keith's retinas. nausea comes in another wave, and keith squeezes his eyes shut, weight pitching forward until the crown of his head rests on shiro's chest. another beat, then both his arms loop tightly around shiro's waist, desperate to be reminded of what holding a warm, living, breathing person feels like.

it's too late. he's already...

dead? crisped? fuck. what a messed up thing to be thinking. but shiro's tone shifts and the cage around his shoulders lets up. he's gone. keith doesn't peell away, nor does he open his eyes to figure out what the shift is about. he ought to, of course, but the mere thought of catching another glimpse of that man's face is paralyzing. ]

I can't look.

[ his words come with quiet urgency as keith presses himself tighter to shiro. ]

.. I don't feel so good. I really didn't want to see that.

[ recalibrate. reevaluate. rework and re… ject? what is happening, that is. shiro may have faltered there for a few moments and gone slack with shocked confusion, but any leeway keith has gained is taken away again. shiro firms his grip and holds him steady, brain churning through options quickly. he’s accustomed to this: not simply reacting to horrific situations, but planning on the fly of how to deal with them. perhaps it is too dramatic to conclude that keith is falling apart, but he is wavering. that is the unusual part in all of this. shiro has come to associate dependability with keith. sure, keith is volatile at the worst times and yes, it wasn’t so long ago that keith was a wildcard of unpredictability, but in shiro’s mind, keith is a tough as nails, no held punches, no nonsense survivor. to be shaken so significantly from flickering lights, buzzing electricity, and a burning house…

oh.

he gets it and yet he doesn’t. the supernatural aspect of whatever the hell is happening would rock anyone’s foundation, that’s true, but shiro finally finds a hint of understanding that fire and death together is the kind of combination that would act as a trigger for this boy.

… i don’t feel so good.

it isn’t safe to be here anyway. standing out in the snow covered street while everything, seemingly, falls to pieces around them is the kind of dallying that may very well jeopardize their own lives. they need to figure out what is going on, but before they can do that, they need to regroup. ]

There’s nothing for us to do here.

[ he pauses briefly, having been interrupted by wailing that sounds very familiar. that thing is back? is it back inside the cabin? why would it go back?

… wait. the cabin is different: the front door is closed. wasn’t it open a moment ago? frowning, shiro takes a step backwards, pulling keith with him, still held tight to his chest. ]

Let’s go.

[ still, there is reluctance in letting up on his grip. he never does let keith go completely, but he does release him enough to settle for taking him by the forearm instead. with a turn, shiro pulls keith with him, immediately setting a fast pace. ]

This place is falling apart. [ fuck. fuck. ] Hopefully nothing has happened to the cabin.

[ because going into the forest now to create a shelter would be made significantly harder given the hour. ]

[ the disorientation doesn't lift at all. in fact, it only heightens when that same piercing scream rattles keith's head. someone else? is the first thought that comes to mind, but nothing about that explanation makes sense. despite the rolling nausea in his stomach, keith peeks towards the house and stares in open confusion for the two beats before shiro turns them around to walk away. the man is gone, and the front door of the house is shut.

he stumbles on the first step, but doesn't on the next and keeps his head bowed as shiro leads them down the path to their cabin. he doesn't understand a damn thing of what's happening, but shiro is right that place is falling apart. glitching out perhaps, with their surroundings playing out some macabre loop. and right at this critical junction when keith tought to be keeping his wits aboout him, he's doing ... what, exactly? ]

Sorry.

[ the apology is offered in a defeated tone of voice as keith starts moving faster to match shiro's stride. ]

I know you need me to be focused right now.

[ patience and all. but exercising patience with himself has never been keith's strongest suit. ]

I'm fine. I just ... at the hospital. They wouldn't let me look at my dad and I... [ keith swallows. ] ... I guess that was why.

[ if they keep this pace, they can be back to the cabin in two, three minutes. their cabin is closer to the edge of town, so there isn’t much further to go. all they need to do in the meantime is keep their wits and stay vigilant until they’re both inside, the door locked behind them and –

sorry.

shiro’s breakneck pace wavers. he doesn’t pause, but there’s a distinct shift that has his next stride slowing as he gives up surveillance of their surroundings, looking to keith instead. so shiro had been on the right track there at the end, afterall. it does have something to do with keith’s father. shiro makes sure to keep his shoulders squared and level, despite the leaden weight that suddenly crashes down on them. so they remain a solid mass, but a comforting one when he allows his next step to slow and his arm to release the lead he has on keith’s forearm, instead sidestepping to put them side by side as he reaches for a wrap around. he nabs keith by the shoulders, squeezing them shoulder to shoulder for a surprisingly tight side hug. ]

I’m sorry, Keith. [ an inadequate comment, he knows, because – ] I know there’s not much to say to soften the blow of losing someone like that.

[ he’s been there. he doesn’t talk about it any more than keith does, but they do share that in common: dead parents. two body bags at the scene of a car accident… heh, he’s not about to start comparing the traumatic effects. his grandpa showed up pretty quick to pick him up from child’s services and then promptly shielded him from everything going on. that’s where he and keith differ. shiro still had family to help him through it. keith did not.

yes, well, shiro is here now. he’ll be keith’s rock. ]

We can spare a few moments for you to collect yourself. I’ve got you in the meantime.

[ … except, is shiro actually put together enough himself to be that supportive figure? he wants to be, but as he said before, this place is falling apart. there are no bars or fences or guards to keep them in here, but shiro is under no illusion: this is a prison. they’re captive in a hellish landscape, plagued by monsters and strange happenings. it might be too presumptuous to assume that fire was targeted at keith specifically, but shiro is familiar with tactics to break spirit. he endured jeers, withheld meals and actual torture by the galra, all of it meant to accomplish one or the other at opposite ends of the spectrum: make him weaker or make him stronger.

considering he earned himself the name the champion, he managed the latter.

still, he hesitates in breaking this to keith. keith is, supposedly, this legendary warrior now, but shiro still sees him in a bright orange uniform, face softer with youth and vulnerability. he wants to protect him, not ask him to be a hardened warrior like he himself has become. so he sighs as his grip loosens, reluctance evident. ]

… But you’re right. [ and again: ] I’m sorry. [ he lets go, looking back at keith as he eases into a faster stride again, already outpacing keith through the next step. ] I need you to settle it as best you can and focus, at least until we’re back at the cabin. Can you do that for me?

[ shiro squeezes him in close, and keith draws in a deep breath and holds it for the duration, face scrunched and jaw clenched tight. whatever's going on, the situation is dire, potentially world-ending and whatever time they have left is not time keith should be spending on tormenting himself over a loss that happened nearly a decade ago. there's a word for what keith is feeling right now and it's pathetic. staying sharp through whatever the fuck is happening if not for himself, then a least to keep the last, living, breathing family keith has safe is the only thing that matters now.

compartmentalizing comes shockingly easily, in a way that it never did during his early years as a garrison cadet. back then, every insult and dirty look thrown his way would have soured his mood for hours upon hours. evidently a short stint in a space war where a slip up in focus could mean life or death really has done something to his head. but even that isn't worth dwelling on. shiro's grip relaxes and keith finally lets that suspended breath go, expression hardening as he lifts his face. ]

Yes, sir. You got it.

[ sir. a weird slip up, considering shiro hadn't ordered keith to pull himself together. come to think of it, this shiro's never really done any leading or commanding, huh? it's a weird thought, but keith pushes that aside, too. his own stride picks up, eyes alert as and surveying their surroundings for threats as they hurriedly march back towards base.

but perhaps keith hasn't fully compartmentalized everything going on. if the world is unraveling around them, then there's one thing that needs to be said. to keith's credit, he says it in a tone that's surprisingly stoic and stripped of emotion. ]

Whatever this is, Shiro? I'm with you to the end.

[ it’s not as though that’s the first time he’s heard keith call him that. sir. he quickly became shiro to keith at galaxy garrison, but there were appearances to keep up. so when they weren’t sneaking to the roof, drag racing in the desert or holing up somewhere to review concepts for upcoming tests, sir and salutes got tossed around far more often. still, the word catches him off guard, making him feel – odd. it’s a callback to a lifetime ago or at least, a time that feels like a past life. altogether, it hasn’t been that long. it’s just… so much has changed that none of it feels as though it belongs to him anymore. not even the memories in his head. the driving force behind all of this, he supposes, is that it comes back to that feeling he can’t shake: he feels like an imposter.

even this continued friendship with keith. neither of them are the versions that they last knew and yet, they pretend that they are still best friends. shiro wonders if or when that will come to a head. at some point, it has to, doesn’t it?

whatever this is, shiro? i’m with you to the end.

this isn’t the time to laugh; shiro almost does, though. he almost does because for every time he tells himself he isn’t enough and that keith isn’t the keith he left behind and that there is something irrevocably mismatched between them… there’s a moment, a comment, or a feeling that reinforces the fact that they are still as in sync with each other as they’ve always been. either way, just as this isn’t the time to laugh, it isn’t the time for deep reflection on the state of their friendship, and so, shiro takes that cue to offer a final: ]

You and me… let’s see this through. Come on.

[ and so they do. together, they survey and avoid the strange happenings through town and make their way to their – thankfully still standing – cabin. there is, however, a very obvious difference. ]

The lights are on.

[ perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. electricity hasn’t been accessible to them since arrival, but as of now, various homes have been lit up, often with lights flicking on and off. their lights are, amazingly, stable – for now – and so, when shiro gets the door open and walks inside, every bit of the cabin is bathed in light.

it’s eerie.

he pauses just past the threshold, frowning and on edge as he glances around, as though anticipating the catch to this otherwise fortunate turn of events. ]

If the lights work… [ for all his hesitance, he does start walking though. ] I wonder if that means the radio works, too.

[ there are two, actually. whoever lived here was a low-grade hoarder. there are two radios stacked on top of each other in the far corner and unfortunately for them, neither of them bring in anything but static as shiro fiddles with the nobs. well, except for one station that comes in relatively clear. ]

Not what I was going for.

[ he was hoping for news and chatter; anything related to the world outside this snowy wilderness. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

improvise. adapt. overcome →

keith... stop giving shiro heart attacks

he doesn't man to...???

YES WELL. it happens all the same

KEITH IS TRYING NOT TO!!!

yes. well. shiro is going to repay the favor soon.

boys pls...

they can't help being reckless fools

YES THEY CAN.

are you sure about that