Either way, we're not alone

[gildedlife]

Who: James Fitzjames, OTA
What: Exploring, and also finding some friends (early Sept catchall)
When: First few days after arriving
Where: Around Milton!

Content Warnings: The Terror-typical themes of death, illness, and general Bad Times, but anything specific will be added as it comes up!


For the first two days or so, James doesn't really leave the house he's taken up (temporary?) shelter in. Instead, he spends most of the time sleeping, occasionally waking up to make some rosehip tea and wage the mental battle necessary to drink it, then falling back asleep and repeating the cycle.

But although any sort of true recovery will take far longer than a few days, by the third day of being in this new place he feels much better than he had when he'd arrived, and even if that was an incredibly low bar to clear it's still more than enough to be encouraging. This isn't some sort of strange dream or dying hallucination. He's really here, somehow, and--for once in so many months now--he's getting better, not worse.

He might actually live. But this time, unlike his many other close brushes with death, he finds he isn't entirely sure what to do with the knowledge of that possibility.

He also has zero desire to contemplate that fact or any of its implications, but unfortunately, the downside of feeling better is that he's now capable of overthinking things again. And the only way to avoid doing that is through distraction, so it's only reasonable that he decides to go exploring.

Comments

[Open]

[gildedlife]

Considering he'd been more than a little dazed during his first--and last--visit to the Community Hall, it seems like a good first stop in getting a better sense of the town. Upon arriving, he's immediately distracted by something he'd completely missed last time; the message board, covered in handwritten notes, is entirely fascinating.

So James spends some time going through them all, curiously reading over the various notes and looking through the occasional drawings. Some of the messages half-illegible between the handwriting and James' bad eye, others make no sense between the lack of context and strange word choices, but a few of the messages are in familiar handwriting with familiar names and many others offer various helpful pieces of information. Several people have also given their addresses, though he only makes mental note of a few of them.

If a stranger or new acquaintance approaches, he directs their attention toward a particular drawing.

"Do you know what this is about?"

If it's someone more familiar, they're likely to get a slightly different greeting, depending on who it may be.

Re: [Open]

[lieutenantsteward]

Thomas had just thought of leaving Milton, despite the appearance of the Aurora and the new batch of lost wanderers. It never strikes him as a good time. It's never fun. It's never anything more than the realization of imprisonment and sadness and longing that washes over them. He doesn't like to see it in their face.

He nearly walks past Fitzjames before he realizes his mistake.

"Captain?"

He nearly stumbles over his feet in shock.

[gildedlife]

James has been filled in on who else from the expedition are present here, so it isn't a complete shock to hear the familiar voice and term of address, but it's still a bit of a surprise. A good surprise.

"Lieutenant." He greets in response, turning away from the board to more fully face Jopson and offering a small but genuine smile. "I'd been told you were somewhere around here."

[lieutenantsteward]

He doesn't admonish him as he does Little or Irving for using the title he had shucked off so easily after they arrive. He doesn't say a damn thing about it. Seeing him here, hale and healthy, that smile on his face and those clothes on him - Jopson has to suppress any number of emotions.

"I - have taken residence on the other side. In Lakeside. But I came here for the arrival. For the Aurora."

[gildedlife]

It's strange, this. There are very few social situations that James is at a complete loss for how to navigate--or even simply how to feel about--but this is certainly one of them.

Still, he's glad to see Jopson, and that's really what matters with now.

"Is there always a correlation? An Aurora with arrivals?" Focusing on practical things seems easy enough for the moment, something that feels almost normal. And he didn't miss that Jopson said he lives in Lakeside; that's good to know, though he also wonders why he's chosen to be so far out.

[lieutenantsteward]

"Not completely," he admits. "The Aurora comes without arrivals, but arrivals never come without an Aurora."

He lets out a breath, wondering for a moment where to even start this conversation.

"What - what was happening before you came here?"

[fidior]

Edward has been much less of a presence around the town recently, than he usually is. He still patrols, still checks in on others, but he's... noticeably absent, keeping to himself. He hasn't even learned the faces of the newest group of Interlopers to join them, something that sits heavy in his gut, one aching guilt to join so many others.

When he visits the Community Hall one September morning, it's meant to be a quick thing — he delivers more chopped wood for the fireplace, slips down to the basement to check on supplies. This place so recently faced an extreme food shortage, and the fear of it never quite leaves him.

When he heads back up, adjusts his greatcoat and prepares to leave, he spots him — the tall figure, distinguishable in the way Commander James Fitzjames always has been. The way great men always are. Though of course, the last time Edward saw him, Erebus's captain was bleeding and crumbling, and Little was soon tasked with burying him. It was an especially horrible day.

Something in his chest hitches. He is no stranger to finding the ghosts of the men here. He was among the first Interlopers; he's seen each one come in. But it's always a shock, an ache, as much as it's some breath of yearning — to have the chance to be with his fallen companions again.

Edward approaches the other man at the message board slowly, removing his cap to hold in his hands and dipping his head with polite subservience. "Captain Fitzjames."

[gildedlife]

In just the short time James has been looking through the memos, several people have made their way through the Community Hall, so he's mostly tuned out the constantly shifting presences unless they get close. It's one of those skills one absolutely has to have on a ship, where the lack of solitude can be a little maddening, even for someone as sociable as James usually is.

Since Edward is slow to draw closer, James doesn't immediately notice him, and when he does it's only out of his peripheral vision in his bad eye. But when James turns to look more fully toward Edward at the same time as Edward speaks, recognition is immediate, and the smile that crosses his features is reflexive and genuine.

"Ah, Lieutenant, you've saved me the effort of going to find you." He says it lightly, as if Edward had simply shown up on Erebus when James had been planning to make a trip to Terror. Something normal, something that had happened often enough, something easy to navigate. Something other than the nearly unfathomable reality of their situation.

[fidior]

No matter how many times he finds them, it never becomes... easier, this act of reunion. Edward finds his fingers grasping his cap tightly, worrying it with little self-soothing gestures, rubbing against the material as he takes in that smile — familiar despite over a year now, for him, since last he saw it. Captain Fitzjames was always kind to him.

(Does he know? Of his death? Some here seem to of their own endings — Goodsir, Jopson, Gibson.... Irving, perhaps; it is not something that Edward has directly touched upon yet, but he sometimes thinks he sees a strange, haunted thing in his eyes. Perhaps he imagines it.)

Fitzjames isn't panicked, seems to be holding his own well (it's no surprise to Edward that such a seasoned man as Fitzjames would be keeping a level head, but this is.. so much. They have been brought to a different place, a different position in time. Perhaps he already knows what's going on.)

"I apologise for not greeting you before now, Sir. Has the situation... been explained to you? Of our circumstances here?"

[gildedlife]

James gives a slight shakes his head at the apology--it isn't necessary--and notes the nervous fidgeting with the hat, but doesn't comment on it. He feels much the same way, even if he's doing his best not to show it.

"It has. To an extent, at least." He's sure there's a great deal he hasn't learned yet, but he has the basics, even if he may not have internalized it all yet. It is indeed truly so much, and so he's handling it the way he's handled every other surreal horror that has come their way, by focusing on what needs to be done and little more.

Well, almost. He's trying to focus on the good things too.

His smile softens, no more or less genuine than before, just quieter as some of his initial efforts at imitating normalcy fade.

"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant."

[fidior]

The only way he's known to handle things here has been to try as hard as he can to continue as resolutely as he always had — and that's generally extended to how he handles greeting the others from the Expedition when they show up here. Professional and diligent and responsible, but... over these past months, so much has crumbled, and now Edward isn't sure how he feels about wearing his own uniform anymore. He's long-ago stopped carrying his shotgun. He feels like an imposter in his own skin.

It means that when James says what he does then — 'it's good to see you again' — and smiles the way he does, something soft and subtle and honest... somehow, it almost gives Edward a certain permission to let himself stop pretending, too. Even if just slightly, and just for a moment, but...

It's good to see him, too. It's so very good, and aching, and wonderful, the way it had been to see Irving most recently. There are certain careful distances to uphold around even the other men, and especially around a higher officer, but... sometimes, Edward has been reminded that this place has stripped them all of those rankings, at the core of it.

He finds himself blinking against a tightness at his throat, one he's able to control, but it lingers. This man before him is dead, but here... he is able to see him again.

"It's good to see you as well, Sir." Despite the formality that does still cling, there's something warm and sincere to his words, perhaps shown the most in his eyes.

"It has been... quite some time. I— I've existed here for a year now, if it is possible to believe."

[solitarysoul]

Levi checks the message board regularly, in part because he lives at the community hall and its right there. He makes note of people putting up or reading notes, though, so the boy in the oversized coat with the rifle on his back heads over to see if Fitzjames is leaving a note or not.

"...that's the Darkwalker. Kate drew it."

[gildedlife]

Oh. So this is the Darkwalker, apparently; James has heard a bit about the creature and isn't sure what he was imagining, but not something with three heads. He glances over at the stranger who'd joined him, noting the rife first and then that this person seems pretty young, though certainly not too young to be carrying a weapon in a situation like this.

"When did you see it?" General you, referring to the note at the bottom of the drawing; what had happened, for many people to see the creature? Had it attacked?

[solitarysoul]

"Months ago, during the winter. We all had a dream and he was in it. That's the only time I've seen him, but he's out there somewhere." Or in an overlapping world or however gods' realms worked.

[gildedlife]

"Everyone? On the same night?" Probably... Not the weirdest part about this if he really thinks about it, but for all the strange things he'd encountered during the expedition at home and the new ones he's getting used to here, somehow a shared dream stands out as particularly unusual.

[Closed] to Goodsir

[gildedlife]

In addition to his half-aimless exploring, James also has a specific mission in mind to accomplish. It isn't too difficult to figure out where Goodsir might be--there's the note on the message board, and so all James has to do is ask around a little to be pointed in the right direction--so he soon finds himself on the front porch of what he's been assured is either Goodsir's house, clinic, or maybe both.

Brief hesitation grips him, more due to how surreal this all is than any particular trepidation about the actual situation, but he soon shakes it off. He raises a hand, knocks twice, and waits.

Re: [Closed] to Goodsir

[bestsir]

Goodsir has only just returned from one of his sojourns to Lakeside—which accounts for why he and Fitzjames had not encountered one another earlier. And word hasn't reached him yet of the latest batch of newcomers.

He's in the middle of organising the latest collection of first aid supplies that he's gathered when he hears the knock. He puts away the box that he was holding and goes to the door.

And stares, dumbfounded. As if, in fact, he had seen a ghost, and in a manner of speaking, he has.

"C—Captain Fitzjames?"

[gildedlife]

He's... Well, not getting used to that look, but it's been enough times now that he's expecting it. But James can't really judge; he'd reacted similarly to Irving, and the expression that crosses his face upon seeing Goodsir isn't all that different either, despite having been expecting to see him.

They hadn't really known what had happened to Goodsir when he'd disappeared after the attack on Terror Camp, but none of the potential explanations had been good, and James distinctly remembers the dread that had set in upon realizing Goodsir was missing; it had only deepened the longer they'd been unable to find him, and eventually they'd had no choice but to move on. There had never been an answer.

So, in a sense, seeing Goodsir is a little like seeing a ghost for James as well. But a very welcome ghost, at least.

"Good to see you again, Dr. Goodsir." He doesn't quite manage the light, conversational tone he's going for, the mix of emotions too strong, but the small smile that comes to his features is entirely genuine.

[bestsir]

If ever I was a doctor...

He ought to be used to this, he thinks distantly. Little, Jopson, Crozier, Hickey, Gibson, Irving ... all turning up on his doorstep, living and breathing. To say nothing of his own fate. But it's still a shock.

He reaches out and puts a hand on Fitzjames's arm, feeling him solid, and his face breaks into a smile.

"My God. What a wonder to see you now too. Come in, please, come in."

[gildedlife]

The hand on his arm is a little unexpected, but it's not at all unwelcome. It's reassuring, grounding, proof that somehow they're both here, despite everything that has happened.

"How long have you been here?" In this place in general, but also this particular home; as soon as Goodsir leads the way in, James will be following and taking a curious glance around.

Wildcard [Open]

[gildedlife]

[[ooc: Anything goes!!!]]

a housewarming gift;

[sukeltaja]

Tom's a lot more observant than people think. It's easy to dismiss him, the twitchiness of it all, the occasional spurts of poetry, the laid-back and somehow still wildly manic energy he gives off all converging into a persona that's generally unreliable at best and untrustworthy at worse. But he's smart, and he knows where to be and what to look for.

It's somewhat early in Fitzjames' recovery. Zane's clocked him going in but not coming out in a while, just by virtue of the fact that he, too, loves to explore and has stumbled upon the other at the appropriate moment. Today Zane has an actual approach for saying hello to his new friend the magnet scientist: the other had been sickly upon arrival, tired and ragged, leaving Tom worried. When he fishes for Alan, Scratch and Darling that morning he makes sure the bounty includes one extra person.

Tom bursts through the other's door at around 9 in the morning with a grin on his face, two fat, freshly caught fish bundled up in his arms.

"I thought you might--" he stops dead in Fitzjames' hallway, eyes wide as he seems to remember something, and proceeds to turn heel and exit immediately, closing the door behind him. A few seconds later, he knocks politely.

[gildedlife]

...He probably should've locked the door. But, to be fair, he really hadn't thought about it; between living on a ship and then in tents for the last several years, and then being so dazed upon arriving here, it's probably no surprise that it hadn't exactly crossed his mind.

But at least James happens to be awake at the particular moment Zane barges in, working on finely shredding some stuffing from an old pillow in order to use it as kindling, so it's marginally less startling than it would've been if he were sleeping. Marginally. He's on his feet in an instant at the sound of the door, not able to see the hallway from where he is and so unsure of who might be coming in, but he immediately starts toward the door and catches a glimpse of Zane just as he's turning around and leaving.

...What even...

And then he's knocking, and James just... Takes a moment. What is even happening. He appreciates the inherent comedy and theatrics of the entire scene, but also he'd just been thoroughly startled and is not sure how Zane found him, so there's a whole host of warring emotions going on right now.

Still, after a few seconds of knocking he opens the door, and raises his eyebrows at his visitor. Explanation, please.

[sukeltaja]

[ There we go. Zane's tone is soft, alarmingly gentle and quiet. ]

People need to knock. It's been so long that I forgot that people knock.

[ Back on track, he hefts the fish up, back to smiles and manic energy. He's going to just barge right in again if allowed, heading straight for the kitchen. ]

I hope you're hungry. You were in such a state when I saw you, you need to eat! This place'll kill you if you don't.

[gildedlife]

['Been so long' since what? He's curious and a little confused, but considering his own recent experiences had led him to forget about locking doors, he's willing to accept the excuse. This time.

He does allow Zane to enter, if just because he does want to see why he's here, and is soon rewarded with the explanation as he follows the other man to the kitchen. James has hardly been in here, pretty much everything untouched aside from the pot he'd found for boiling water, and he isn't really paying any of it any more attention right now. His focus is solely on the fish.

He hadn't been hungry--not really, anyway, not enough to outweigh the nausea and dread associated with the idea--when he'd arrived, and hadn't managed to convince himself to eat anything at the feast, but with a little rest that's suddenly changed.]

Do you have a knife?

[Because he doesn't, and he's not sure if there's one in the kitchen, and he has the sudden and intense urge to cut out one of those dead fish eyes and eat it raw.]