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

[sukeltaja]

[ Tom whistles, low and loud, and decides to be a little more direct. Just for now. Just because he's seen the way that smile slides onto the others' face, practiced but not quite reaching his eyes. ]

I've been alone for years. Doesn't matter how many times you tell the same one, I'm gonna love anything that's not my own voice. And who knows? Maybe I'll like them enough to want to collaborate.

Proper credit to you, of course. Naturally. [ Tom's toying with the idea in his head already: Kapteenin Kissa: Gepardin Tarina. Something bright, full of colours. A cheetah, stop motion, trying to find a sense of belonging in a foreign place. Aimed at children at first glance but holding a darker, edgier tint, something lingering on the surface. Dread. He'd play the role of the captain, of course. The cheetah would be Alex Casey. Fitzjames would make a small but meaningful cameo. The smell of cooked fish is flooding his nostrils far too much to hold his focus on the fleeting fancy for too long. ]

Grab a plate, Gepardin, hmmm? The pieces are small enough that it should be ready.

[gildedlife]

[The idea of one of James' more ridiculous stories ending up some sort of... Whatever type of performance art that Zane makes, is actually a little delightful. He'd be very amused to see that, credit given or not.

He didn't miss the comment Zane made about being alone for years, and James wants to ask, curious about just how literal it is. He also notices the foreign word he doesn't recognize but assumes to be Finnish, and wonders about that as well.

But his attention is also being diverted to the fish, and he realizes belatedly that they do need plates, although James isn't completely sure if there are any--or any silverware--but goes to look anyway. In the cupboard he does find a few plates, and also a towel; that might help with handling the pan, so he brings that as well, and although he doesn't find any forks it hardly matters. Fish is very easy to eat with one's hands.]

Here.

[He balances the plates in his right arm, using his left to hand Zane the towel first, and then pass him a plate with a careful effort not to wince while doing so.

It's only then, while holding his remaining plate and turning his gaze back toward the fish, that he realizes how long it's been since he's eaten. He'd been too sick to do so for a time--days?--before arriving, and the first night in this place hunger had lost out to nausea and exhaustion. He's managed to drink some water and rosehip tea, but it had been both a mental and physical struggle to do so, and he's suddenly somewhat nervous about the prospect of a meal.

But unlike the night before, his hunger is stronger than his nerves, and the only things holding it at bay are waiting for Zane to take his own serving--if he chooses to do so, anyway--and his own sense reminding him that he'll have to be careful; he's heard horror stories about what can happen to people who eat too much or too quickly after they've been starving.]

[sukeltaja]

Thanks! [ Tom takes his portion, small enough James has the lion's share but enough that the other won't feel self conscious about eating the whole thing, blue eyes steady on the other. There's no subtleness to it--concern is clear on his face. It had been the reason he came here, after all. ]

You don't have to worry about manners around me, either. In fact, at some point, I think it would very fun if the two of us really let our hair down. Whole village needs to really let loose--that's what this place needs. Something fun. Before the Dark Walker comes again.

[ He hasn't forgotten their first conversation. The sympathic smile gives way to something else, a half-smirk as he lifts his fingers to grab the fish, completely unbothered by lack of plates. ]

Do you believe in him? The Dark Walker?

[gildedlife]

[James considers pointing out the fact that they both already have their hair down--the joke is old but it's right there and much easier than any sort of serious response to the idea--but manages to refrain. The Darkwalker is an easier topic anyway, providing a distraction both from Zane's concerned look and the fact that James has use both hands to lift the pan, and sets his plate down to do so before tipping a portion of the remaining fish onto the plate.

Although he picks up the plate again afterward, he doesn't try eating yet.]

It hardly matters what I believe.

[He doesn't say it bitterly, but his tone is slightly resigned. Whether or not he wants to believe in this, or any of the other impossible things he's seen whether before arriving here or since, it doesn't make any difference to the situation.]

But I have no reason to think all who've told me of it are mistaken.

[And one of those people had been Francis, who James trusts completely. ]