there'll be oats in the water

[singmod]

JULY 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: REDUX: A storm finally arrives, and with it — Enola extends her hand to help the Interlopers once more, granting them new abilities.

PROMPT TWO — PENSIVE LOOKOUT: With the Forest Talker efforts focused on sabotaging hunting efforts, Interlopers can attempt to explore the Pensive Lookout Tower, where they can uncover secrets from the diary of Sam Bouchard — the former firewatch worker of the summer of 2014.

PROMPT THREE — A PEEK INSIDE: A group of Interlopers get their hands on one of the Forest Talkers in search of answers — and get a little more than they bargained for.

THE AURORA: REDUX

WHEN: Mid-month, for three days.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/extreme weather; lightning storms; potentially disturbing dreams; dreams of being trapped in ice; dreams of animal death; dreams of the death of loved ones.


July brings warmer weather. The fog has lifted, and the daylight returned — but an odd kind of pressure lingers in the air, the kind that feels similar with oncoming storms but something still feels off about it all. Measurements and readings are erratic, with them often making little sense. It’s hard to predict just what might be coming, but sure enough something is coming.

Hold on a little longer, Enola told you. A storm is coming.

It comes quickly, the gathering of storm clouds. At first, it looks as if a kind of snowstorm is moving in, but there’s something else at play here. Within the grey, cloudy skies, there is a tell-tale sound of an Aurora mixed within those clouds.

And with it, in amongst the dark, the swirling colours. Greens, pinks and purples weaving through the clouds, almost mesmerising to watch. The air is alive with sound: static noise, cracks and pops: a storm and the Aurora mixed into one. For those who’ve been here long enough, it’s a worrying, unnerving sight. The storm rumbles with the low roar of distant thunder, growing ever closer. The electronics of the world begin to come alive, and in the static of it all — you begin to hear Enola’s voice even clearer than before.

After so much darkness, now there is so much light. A lightning storm — aurora colours mingling with the grey clouds, punctured with crackles of lightning. Something powerful and strange — flash forking across the skies, followed by booms of thunder.

The storm lasts three days, and even though her voice is soft — you hear it over all the noise, nestled gently in your ear.

“You're still here. It means something. This isn’t the end, I refuse to let it be the end. It can’t win. You won’t go into the Dark.” Enola tells you. ”I will make you more than what you are, more than what was stolen from you. This place will not be your end. I have to try. We have to try. Together. I showed some of you, once. I’ll show you again.”

She tells you to sleep. For some, they recognise this and realise what may end up happening. For others it feels like going out on a limb. But you sleep, and perhaps a dream may come to you.

COLD FUSION: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of a great hall of ice: as if it had been carved into some great ridge of it. You walk through it, marvelling at the beauty of it — a blue gloom, echoing with each of your footsteps. But as you take one particular step, the ground cracks and collapses beneath you, sending you into dark, frozen waters. In seconds, the water freezes around you, encompassing you in thick ice, your entire body trapped within it. The coldness burns you, and you are stuck there — frozen in agony. The pain is immeasurable, your entire body crushed and searing from the ice. There is no escape, no reprieve.

A voice speaks to you, perhaps it is the voice of a stranger, perhaps it is the voice of someone you know: Do you know how you survive the cold?’ They ask you. You do not know, and you wait for the answer: ‘You become colder than it.

Your eyes close. You believe those words, you do. You must become colder than the cold itself. And so you will. Your breathing slows, your heart slows and the cold… it stops hurting, it doesn’t burn. The ice around you begins the crack.

When you awaken the first thing you realise is despite the temperature, you are completely cosy and warmed. You do not feel the slightest chill. It is perhaps only once you are around other than you truly notice the difference to you — you are cold to the touch, lacking the heat you once had. An understanding comes: you are at one with the cold, it will not beat you, it will not cause you agony. Winter is at peace within you: perfect Cold Fusion.

MOON TOUCHED: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of running through the silent woods at night. The moon is full above you, the air is calm and still. Hunger draws you forward, everything is so sharp and vivid in your senses, even in this dreamscape. You hear the crispness of the snow beneath your feet, smell the scent of the pines on the air, feel how warm you are against the coldness around you.

The snuffling of a rabbit catches your attention, and you swiftly leap after it, jaws opening and closing around its neck as you capture it. You bite down hard, feeling the crunch of its bones as they break, the sweet coppery taste of blood filling your mouth and nose. You lift your head towards the stars, blood on your tongue. You realise you are not a person at all, but a beast on all fours: a wolf, content and filling your belly with meat.

You wonder, for a brief moment: were you ever a person at all?

You do not know the answer to the question. You do not seem to worry about such a thing but there’s a flash of warning on the air. Something you cannot quite place, but you know that you should not forget it.

When you awaken, you feel… different, somehow. Everything seems a little sharper, as if the world around you had been dull, or behind some pane of frosted glass. With it comes a strange balance of calmness and chaos, tameness and wildness, fear and bravery. You find yourself looking for the moon in the skies and when you finally find it, it hits you — this is what it means to be Moon Touched.

INTERLOPER’S SACRIFICE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape and then fade into nothing. You dream of kneeling in a darkened, charred wood. You are not alone. In this dreamscape, you dream of a loss, or a time you have never felt more helpless in your life. Perhaps it is when someone you knew died before you, or you stood as someone was sick and injured and you were unable to do a thing. As you kneel, they are there with you: sick or dying or even dead in your arms. You cannot do anything but hold them, and the helplessness is overwhelming.

You look up and a woman in furs stands before you, her expression solemn. Enola herself. There are tears in her eyes, as if she shares the very pain you do: the loss, the grief, the hopelessness, the powerlessness. She approaches you and lowers herself to kneel in front of you and your companion, bracing your shoulders for a long, lingering moment. There are no words, none from neither of you.

Enola shifts slightly, leans forwards. She kisses your forehead, much like when a parent kisses their child: sweet and tender.

And then you feel it, as if you are set alight: an agonising pain that encompasses you whole — so painful you cannot even open your mouth to scream. You feel yourself growing weak, the corners of your vision blurring into black. It feels as if you might die from the pain, and you want for it to stop but it doesn’t.

Enola pulls away and you gasp, slumping in exhaustion, but still alive, somehow. You stare at her, sweating and clamouring for breath, and she offers you a sad smile. Never again. you feel the words inside of you. This time, it will be different. Better.

When you awaken, you can still feel the kiss upon your forehead — enough to make your fingers reach up to touch it, your entire body tingling a little. A small voice in the back of your mind whispers, reminding you as you find yourself looking down at your hands: never again. Never again, you tell yourself and the comprehension comes to you: you have chosen. This is what it means to be: this is your sacrifice. The Interloper’s Sacrifice.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

PENSIVE LOOKOUT

WHEN: The month of July.
WHERE: Pensive Lookout Tower, Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; possible fall injuries/treacherous climbs; themes of terror; themes of diminished sanity; themes of starvation.

The Old Hunting Lodge is located in the southern-most area of Lakeside, and its surrounding area is generally considered no-go territory with the presence of the Forest Talkers. As June turned into July, the Forest Talker’s presence in the wilds of Lakeside has begun to grow again — but their efforts appear to be focused on sabotaging the efforts of Interlopers, Methuselah and Young Bill in hunting fresh game. If anything, it could mean that with attentions drawn away — perhaps the braver sorts of the Interlopers can explore the area a little more fully.

There’s little in terms of buildings of interest in this area. The wilderness is thick and deep here. Perhaps the odd ransacked cabin once belonging to a local may be stumbled across — its contents picked clean, presumably by the Forest Talkers. Many of these buildings will be completely inhabitable due to the damage done — with some cabins being razed to the ground.

However, on higher ground, with a good hike to access it, stands a watch tower.

These lookout towers could mean a number of things: a chance to access supplies that may have otherwise been forgotten about due to the hike to get up there, a better view of the surrounding area, and the possibility of a radio — given the sign of a radio transmitter that can be found blinking a feeble red on Aurora nights.

With the snow on the ground it’s a little more treacherous, but given the circumstances, anything’s worth a shot, right? Those who attempt the hike may fall foul to slips and trips along the steep slow to reach the tower, and should take care in the ascent. Even with the warmth of July, it’s difficult. One might hope this might make the place a decent outpost, if you think about it. Somewhere hard to reach, and with such a vantage point.

Reaching the tower and climbing it to its interior will it largely intact but a mess. Someone has lived here for some time. Interlopers will find no food here, but some useful tools that belonged to the lookout: binoculars, maps, a compass, an alidade. There is even a radio sat upon a desk, and with it — a journal.

The journal, Interlopers will find, belonged to a man named Sam Bouchard — the firewatcher for the season during the previous year, detailing the months of his arrival and ending in November last year. It is unknown what happened to Sam, but his journal will perhaps offer some insight and even some information.

A PEEK INSIDE

WHEN: The month of July.
WHERE: The Gas Station, Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of kidnapping; imprisonment; self-starvation; blood/minor injuries; psychological torment, supernatural abilities.

The Forest Talkers have a long history in the Northern Territories, long before Interlopers started arriving in Milton. Champions of nature, they have sought to put an end to the industries and tourism-related expansions in the Lakeside area, first peacefully and then… not-so-peacefully. But with the events known as the ‘The Flare’ last year, Forest Talkers have been… acting peculiarly, disturbingly, aggressively.

There are plenty of questions to be asked. But the Forest Talkers are difficult to communicate with. Previous attempts have ended up in aggression or being ignored entirely. And now, even with the events of the previous month coming to an end — game remains difficult to find, and Forest Talkers are keen on sabotaging any attempts of hunting made by Interlopers, Young Bill or Methuselah. And more importantly: what is the yawning grave?

It starts as mutterings between tired and disgruntled Interlopers. They need answers, and there’s got to be a way in trying to get some. They’re hungry and exhausted and so many of their numbers are now dead. Those mutterings grow, and soon enough a plan is put into place. A small group of Interlopers embark into Lakeside and wait.

Soon enough, it bears fruit. A man is captured, bound and blindfolded — quietly and secretly brought back to Milton to be held up in the unused Gas Station to be questioned. It is not the leader, but surely one of them is better than no one at all. He is injured, but not enough to kill him. It will prove challenging in trying to get answers out of him, but soon enough the Interlopers will get him to talk.

News of the Forest Talker in their midst will inevitably spread, as most things do in small communities. Secrets are hard to guard. It won’t be just those behind the kidnapping who might end up coming across the man being held in the Gas Station.

Anyone who goes to investigate will find the man sat on the floor in quiet contemplation. Attempts of conversation will be met with long, silent stares — holding your gaze for an uncomfortably long time. He will spurn any gestures of kindness: spit on the floor at Interloper’s feet, refuse any food offered — as if the man has chosen to starve himself in protest. He says nothing, at first.

But after some time, he will look into an Interloper’s eyes and utter something. A word. A phrase. It may be a name, or a place. It may be a specific thing an Interloper has read, or been spoken to by someone. Something that holds meaning to the Interloper. It may be the name of a loved one from home, or the last words ever spoken to you by a friend. Something the man shouldn’t know.

Whatever it is that he speaks to you, it is not something that will fill you with hope or fondness to remember — but quite the opposite. A reminder of something painful, of a loss, or some other thing that caused you misery. As if he had reached right inside your mind and plucked some painful part of your past from you and spoken it to the wind.

The Forest Talker smiles, and will say nothing else. The damage has already been done.

FAQs

THE AURORA: REDUX

1. The next three Aurora Feats are unlocked! Please see the following page for more information.

2. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

3. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Feat. The only time this is available is this month. After July, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

4. This Aurora/storm will last a full three days, darkening the skies almost to night.

PENSIVE LOOKOUT

1. Interlopers who dwell in the lookout for the next Aurora will find the radio works, albeit poorly. They will be able to pick up the same broken morse code message.

2. There are no signs of blood/injury that befell Sam in the lookout. It appears he made good on what he wrote on in his journal and attempted to leave to get to Silverpoint.

A PEEK INSIDE

1. While only a small number was involved in the kidnapping itself, anyone can discover the fact there's a Forest Talker being held in Milton.

2. In terms of appearance, the Forest Talker is very much your typical average white guy. Bearded, weathered by the cold, someone who's lived several years without much in the way of comforts or luxuries.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

[thedreamer]

He lets the bark steep a good long while to infuse the water well enough, and his own mind is turning over an abundance of thoughts even if he's sometimes not the best at actually sharing those aloud. He is daft and strange and even now there are things he still doesn't understand about human sentimentality, connections, feelings. He knows that Thomas has become very important to him; everyone is important to him, yes, but it's different enough with Thomas that even his own often clueless mind can comprehend that difference. Even if he doesn't know...where to begin with addressing any of it.

The tea's ready, though, and it's a pleasant distraction. He pours it into two cups, bringing it over and settling himself on the edge of the bed, reaching out for a moment briefly to sweep some hair back from Thomas' brow before handing one of the cups over.

"This will taste absolutely awful, but will help a bit, I hope."

He's made a bit for himself, to take the edge off that pain in his side. A good night's rest should help, too, for both of them. But it's more important to him that Thomas takes the small bed.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas does understand sentimentality, but he doesn't expect the Doctor to know a damn thing. He doesn't even know what he wants out if this, save someone to see him and be happy to be around him.

He smiles at the touch to his forehead and he sits up, accepting the tea with a laugh.

"Ah, I'm sure I have had worse. But this is - nice. And warm. I think that means more."

He moves over. "You can sit here. It is likely more comfortable."

[thedreamer]

Most of the Doctor's life has been clinging tightly to one friend and the next, after they leave, after he inevitably loses them in some way. He always tells himself he'll just be alone the next time, that it's better, and that never lasts long. In the end, he really can't stand to be alone at all. He pulls people into his orbit because he needs them and then he can't bear to lose them, and he wants to make them happy. He wants to make Thomas happy.

He can register that while he has absolutely cared deeply for all of his friends, there are some that were closer, that he wanted to hold onto tighter, that he might have considered fixing himself to, but knowing of the inevitable pain has always held him back from that one step forward. Touches, closeness, even a kiss — that's safe. That's all this is, right, a bit of closeness to another person? Nothing more, nothing complicated, no reason to think at length on those unexamined feelings beneath the surface. Yes, that's absolutely it. Simple! And being near him, well, the Doctor has little sense of personal space or boundaries, so the moment the invitation is given, he thinks nothing of sitting closer.

"If I nod off and you need more space, you have my full permission to shove me away. What's a little trip to the floor, gets the blood going," he teases, sipping at the tea.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas practically rolls his eyes at that, but he's too focused on the tea. It isn't very good, but it is warm and he feels that warmth throughout his entire body.

It's nice to simply exist right now, and he's not going to give that up.

Thomas is steady. He's always been steady. He's the one that everyone relies on. He's the rock that anchors the ship and every man on it. He's never taken a thing for himself, ever, in his life, save the small romances here and there that never last because they're never meant to.

He doesn't think beyond the next moment when it comes to this, but he does cherish it while he has it.

The Doctor sits and Thomas leans, enjoying the sturdy company beside him. "Ah, but you might spill your tea and you will be forced to start over."

[thedreamer]

"And try to replicate this masterpiece? Perish the thought. It's like lightning in a bottle." He swirls his mug a bit, smirking a little to himself.

There's still so much to learn about Thomas and he wants to, very much. He wants to know him better. But there's enough in his nature to draw him closer to him, enough that he thinks he has a sense of how much he's given to others, how much he's given of himself. It's important to him to give as much to him as he can. He doesn't know what that looks like or what it means but he just knows that knowing him now, knowing him more, being able to care for him in some way, it means more than he knows how to say.

"Do you need more of the warm compresses?"

[lieutenantsteward]

'Need' is such a difficult question for him. There's much that goes into it right now. Does he need them? No. But he would very much like them.

However, that would mean the Doctor will get up and walk away, and Thomas really wants him to stay. To sit for more than five goddamn seconds, like he did before.

"Would it make you feel better to do so?" he wonders, trying to find a way out of this predicament. With a smile. A very innocent one.

[thedreamer]

He downs the last sip of his tea and he mulls this over, as though it were a question in need of some deep consideration. That smile doesn't escape his notice, of course, so it's like a spark lighting up his playfulness. Setting the now empty mug aside, he tilts his chin up a little, squinting, deep in thought clearly.

"Well, easy answer to start — anything that makes you feel better automatically makes me feel better. But it occurs to me we're sitting quite close and I've neglected to mention you're really lovely to sit beside. There isn't a single gap between us, actually, come to think of it, yet I don't feel overly smothered. It's comfortable, enough that I'm reluctant to move. Sturdy shoulders, yet there's a softness there, too. Like you'd make a good pillow," he smiles, giving this a deep analysis, apparently. "I don't want you hurting, though, if I can help it."

Perhaps there's a way to take his mind off it, he thinks, reaching out for a moment to hold his hand.

[lieutenantsteward]

He laughs, looking down, utterly charmed, but unwilling to let himself lose his cool.

"Ah," he says, taking his hand. "Is there a thought that crosses your mind that does not also cross your lips?" he wonders. The Doctor seems so content to say anything and everything that comes into his head. Thomas admires that in his own way. He admires the man who has no fear to speak.

[thedreamer]

"I should hope not!" He is, though, at least half-aware that his tendency towards speaking with ease and rambling as he does isn't always well met by others, but he remains open nonetheless. It's only the more personal things about himself that he holds closer, that are harder to bring to the surface. That, and deeper emotions.

"Moments pass by in a blink. People should say things, people should know things. Little moments...all the stories that make up a life. It's worth hearing, or at least, I think that of others." He turns over Thomas' hand, and similar to some of the pressure he'd applied to his knee joints, he now applies to the major joints of his wrist, pressing in a way that he hopes might soothe any aches. "Well — perhaps knowing that a quarter of the motor cortex in the brain is devoted to the muscles of the hands isn't the most pertinent thing you could ever know, but now you do!"

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas nods, letting him turn his hand over. He doesn't say anything, though. Instead, he leans over and kisses him again, hoping to effectively quiet him that way. He prides himself on being able to quiet down a racing mind. This isn't his normal method of doing so, but he's finding that it's his favorite.

He's never understood the urge to speak so freely, even though he has a thousand thoughts in his head. And the Doctor is very good at saying so much without actually saying anything at all.

Thomas is happy enough to say more with fewer words.

[thedreamer]

So much of the time, he talks and talks to fill the void in his own mind, as though slowing down or settling might force him to just...be. He doesn't know how, exactly, he doesn't let himself, but then Thomas is kissing him again and he's kissing him back.

Maybe there's something to this.

This time, he doesn't struggle quite as much for what to do with his hands, settling for wrapping his fingers around Thomas' now. There is a part of him that fears being lost to this, but then he's always thinking too far ahead. He forces himself just to think about Thomas, and kissing him. Aesthetically pleasing and well-proportioned lips. Soft lips. Good lips? Yes, actually, they are good lips. Objectively speaking. On the whole spectrum of kisses in the Doctor's shaky experience, if he were calculating the speed in combination with the angle of motion, the Doctor would most adamantly confirm the man in front of him has somehow managed the most perfect velocity in his approach. The kiss is neither too fast, nor too slow, nor too...too much anything. In his time, he's yet to attempt measuring kisses in calculable terms, but this does give him something to ponder.

Though he's not entirely sure why he would ponder it beyond this moment? The notion flusters him slightly. But not in a bad way.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas' eyes close so he can focus just on this moment. He is very good at that. Of course, his mind tends to wander, but only because he wants to do this right. He reaches up with his free hand, fingers still cold, and gently brushes against the back of the Doctor's neck, into that ridiculous hair.

He doesn't think about the trek back or the strange place they are now. He thinks about this moment, here, with no one else around him but this man who makes him feel light and silly.

He breaks apart and gently rests his forehead against the others'.

"If this is the only way to get you to stop talking..."

[thedreamer]

"Oh, I see, that's all this is, is it? So, correlation — if I keep talking, this happens again, which isn't an unpleasant prospect..." He's barely containing a smirk, though, teasing with a fondness that feels so easy. He draws his hand close, kissing his knuckles lightly.

There's so much he's never understood, or not allowed himself to understand, about this kind of closeness, of repeated kisses. Maybe there's so much he's missed.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas shakes his head, deeply amused and very endeared. He moves over towards the wall, lying back on the small bed, keeping his hand in the Doctor's.

"What is the place you're from called?" he wonders because if he's going to listen to him chatter, then he's going to listen to something that matters.

[thedreamer]

There's a shift in his expression at the question — not an abrupt shift exactly, but something changes, some of the humor fading from his eyes. There is so much complex emotion wrapped up in all remembrance of the world he left behind, the one he couldn't completely save. But this isn't a secret to keep, not this at least.

"Gallifrey," he breathes out softly, settling back a bit against the slightly uncomfortable headboard. "In the constellation of Kasterborous. I was just a blip there until I'd grown and set out to see the stars, other worlds, places, people. But it's Earth I loved most, where I returned often. I lived there for a time. Not unlike now, of course, though for different reasons." He'd been exiled for breaking the rules and laws of Time.

[lieutenantsteward]

He can tell the switch. It's obvious, not quite subtle, and Thomas debates on pressing the issue. He squeezes his hand instead.

"What is it like?" he asks, his other hand tucking hair behind his ear. "Different from Earth?"

A question he didn't think he'd ever have to consider.

[thedreamer]

There's a far off look in his eyes for a moment — here, but not here. "The Shining World of the Seven Systems," he murmurs softly, a faint, slightly wistful smile on his face.

"Actually quite similar to Earth in a lot of ways — settlements, houses, people carrying on with life. And other people who thought they knew best lording power over — many times — the voiceless. Not really helping, but harming. Gallifrey had binary stars and the smaller one would rise in the morning and make the mountains glow. The second, larger star, cast a faint red glow over the landscape."

He smiles wistfully again, looking at Thomas briefly, then continuing, "What I remember most was the big, beautiful mountain that stretched up far past the violet clouds. Looked grey and sad from a distance, mysterious. I was drawn to it. The slopes of it to the east were blanketed with tiny blue flowers that waved in the breeze, and on the west side, there were snow-capped slopes with red grass. I made friends with the owls, tafelshrews, and cobblemice that were native to it. No shortage of stories there, you can imagine."

He was a lonely child, but he's always had the instinct to make friends with all creatures, wherever he can. It's nice thinking of Gallifrey the way it once was, preferring to imagine it that way over the sounds of war tearing it apart.

[lieutenantsteward]

It's something out of a storybook, and Thomas knows, without a single doubt, that it's far beyond his own imagining. The way he describes it is beautiful, and he leans in close, still lying back, to hear it properly.

"What happened?" he asks gently, encouraging. "Why did you leave?"

[thedreamer]

At first, he flips back to his normal, jovial self, some forced humor coming back to his eyes. Like a mask.

"A universe of wonders, delights, things beyond my knowing — how could I stay in one place?"

That is true, at least, but not the whole story.

"And there were things I'd never seen on Gallifrey, things I didn't know. I learned all about science and philosophy and quantum physics but I knew very little about love and friendship and joy and the persistence of hope, and...things that really make a life. It sounds silly to say, but there was little of any of that on Gallifrey and I wanted to understand it all. The nature of things beyond books and learning — good and evil, hope and sadness. All that you can't read on a page or hold in your hand, but can only feel." The simple joy found in just holding someone's hand — he didn't begin to understand any of it until he left and could see it and know it for himself.

"I rarely went back," he adds, more quietly now. He did on occasion, of course, and sometimes he was forced. But then — when he really had to go back to do the one thing he'd tried all of his life to avoid — to fight — it was nothing but pain. He doesn't know what Thomas will think of him when he tells it, if he tells it.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas sits up, reaching around the Doctor's chest gently to try and pull him down. He sees that mask clearly now as if it was a physical thing on his face, and the only thing he can do is show him the affection, the strange, elusive thing that he doesn't really understand completely now.

He wants him beside him on the small bed, holding him close as if Third Lieutenant Thomas Jopson could single handedly keep the rest of the universe at bay.

"Why not?"

cw: mentions of war, suicidal ideation (sorry this got so long!)

[thedreamer]

It's difficult to reconcile it in his mind, for some reason, the act of being held like this. It's not that he doesn't like it, it's...not something he's used to. He just doesn't allow people close enough generally speaking but that's all turned on its head. He has passed some sort of invisible line and he doesn't know why or how, it's only the knowledge that he trusts Thomas and cares for him that keeps him from pulling away, and even staying close. He doesn't deserve to be held like this, protected, or worried over. That's the part that's hardest to reconcile. This sort of comfort and care, it's not supposed to be for him, it's for everyone else. It would be easy to run, to do what he always does. To pull back and run out into the darkness, but then where would he go? To the forest and its strangeness, its madness? What might it devour of him now that the light from the sun has gone out for the day? And then...to leave his friend behind? To leave like he always does? Perhaps it doesn't matter to dwell on it much — Thomas will let go of him soon enough when he hears the truth. Which is why he at least deserves to hear it all, to make the choice himself, to continue knowing him or turn him away. He would forgive him that in an instant, too — he thinks little of himself deep down.

"There was a war. The Time War. For the sake of all creation. It was fought between my people and the Daleks. I don't believe everything or everyone can be easily categorized as good or evil, I've seen too much of the in between, but...the Daleks, they were, they are purely evil. They feel nothing, they were made to feel nothing. They mean only to destroy. Had they won, they would have enslaved and killed all life in the universe."

He didn't want to fight, he desperately, absolutely did not want to fight. He can be hard when he needs to be, yes, he can be merciless when protecting others and innocent life, but his nature and his purpose is to protect everyone, to help. This went against everything he stood for.

"I couldn't avoid it any longer and I was — I fought. I led battles, I made terrible choices. There was cruelty on both sides and in me, and in the end, no one was really right anymore. Everyone got hurt, everyone lost. Everyone loses in war. I had only one choice left, on that last day, and I nearly killed them all — my people and the Daleks, and myself. I was going to end it all, I was prepared to. I thought I had, actually, for a long time. That's the man I am, Thomas. That I would come to the end of it and wipe them all out."

To keep the rest of the universe safe. For the "greater good" — as if there could be any goodness in that at all. But he doesn't say that because it sounds like a justification he doesn't deserve for the thoughts he had then. He was not a good man. Far from it. It doesn't matter that in the end, he had figured out a way to protect Gallifrey in a pocket universe; he didn't remember that he had at all, not for a long time. Instead, he remembered standing over that horrible device, the Moment, ready to end it all so the rest of the universe could keep going at least. He was capable of doing it, of wiping them all out in an instant, to save everyone else in every other world far beyond. The Trolley Problem come to life. On that last terrible day, when he considered it and had no options left, he hoped he would simply die. Die and never come back. He wasn't supposed to. But he'd rewritten time and he shouldn't have — he saved Gallifrey, sort of. He ended the Time War, but he carries the cost with him everyday. He tries very hard to forget, he wants to forget, he pretends to forget — the blood spilled, the innocent lives lost, the screams in his head that he tucks away.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas can't imagine the scale of such a thing. The entire universe, the people within, the creatures and people at war. Thomas also doesn't believe in good and evil, but he has faced evil. Absolute evil, and he came out of it unscathed.

He holds the Doctor as he explains and he shakes his head, as if he can single handedly take him out of this way of thinking.

"You are the sort of man who made a decision he thought best with everything he had," he says, letting out a long breath. He saw Crozier do the same. Crozier, who was and still is the single greatest person in his experience, made mistakes based on what he knew at the time. He would have changed them, if only he knew how.

"What happened instead?"

[thedreamer]

Some part of him can't entirely fathom that Thomas is still holding onto him after all he's said, but he stays where he is, eyes watching his briefly as he speaks. For the people who died in the war, all the ones he couldn't save — he sees and feels no scorn or disgust in Thomas' eyes, no judgment. It feels like more than he deserves for the things he's done, but he'll take them nonetheless.

Drawing in a slow breath, he lets it out equally slow.

"I sort of tucked it away safely in a parallel pocket universe, is the simplest way to explain. While the Dalek fleets were firing on it, it...disappeared so they fired on each other, wiping themselves out. At least for a time. I can't ever seem to be rid of them."

[lieutenantsteward]

He brushes fingers through the Doctor's hair, marveling at the way he simply stays and breathes and listens.

"Why do you carry that so deep, Sir?" he mutters. "Why do you blame yourself?"

He can guess, but he wants him to say it, to hear those words. And Thomas will hold him while he does.

[thedreamer]

He is once more acutely aware of the tenderness shown to him, in the way he's being touched, and he once again considers pulling back. Not because it's not wanted, it's just a closeness that scares him. Even pushing past whether he deserves it or not, they are so very close right now. All the old fears grip him — the thought of anything happening to Thomas, losing him, knowing what awaits him in the world beyond this one...it's what he always fears. How does he stop it now, though, when all that he wants is to hold him tighter?

"I have a duty of care," he explains simply. It's his responsibility, to keep everyone safe, to keep the balance of the universe in check. "My name, it's like a promise. The name I chose."

His promise to the universe — to help, to never harm. Who else is to blame if he gets it wrong?