open | leave the horror here

[castitas]

Who: Kate Marsh + you!
What: Making rosehip tea/syrup shenanigans; nightmares; feast preparations + more!
When: The month of October.
Where: Various places around Milton.

Content Warnings: Warnings in the individual prompts. As a general rule, themes of depression and suicide, possibly mentions of suicide attempt from last month from It Speaks prompt.




contact: heolstor / _heolstor @ discord for plotting!

Comments

choir of furies in your head | rosehips

[castitas]

one cw: mentions of a suicide attempt, thoughts of depression

[ In the early days of October, the kitchen of the Community Hall is a busy little hub of activity. With a decent harvest of rosehips collected from in and around the town, Kate Marsh is cleaning and cooking the little red berries — with help and directions of a foraging book. It's... been good to keep busy, she thinks. The work leaves little time or space for her mind to wander into darker, sadder thoughts. Keeping herself occupied means she isn't thinking about back home, isn't thinking about the Voice — even if it's thankfully gone now. It means she isn't thinking of the view into the Milton Basin, how close her feet were to the edge, and how her cheeks stung with the cold against her tears.

Keeping busy doesn't mean she's a waste. It means she's... doing something good in the face of everything.

There's various stages in which one might come across her to see what all the fuss and noise (and smell — a delicate, sweet and floral smell filling the entirety of the Hall) is about. She might be in the middle of cooking up the berries into a simple syrup, stirring away at pots on the stove. Perhaps she might ask for extra firewood to keep the stove going. Or she's in the middle of the rather mechanical process she's going through of sterilising jars and glass bottles by washing them in hot soapy water before drying them in the oven.

Or towards the very late afternoon on one of the days, perhaps you might come in to find she's sitting on the floor in front of the stove, watching the ones drying on baking sheets within — waiting for them to be done so she can chop them up and sieve them to remove the pesky hairs. She's mostly looking forward to this being done — she's real excited to try out some of that rosehip tea. It might not be her and Max's weekly tea sessions, but it's something. It's hard to think of something to look forward to, but she'll grasp this one with both hands and cling to it as hard as she can. ]

two

[ With a bright red child's sled she'd found outside one of the many abandoned homes of Milton, she pulls the load of bottles and jars of rosehip syrup behind her as she treks through the town on one of the calmer afternoons. In her school satchel over her shoulder are little packages of the rosehip tea — too delicate to carry alongside the syrup. It's a slow moving progress, and she takes her time with it, trying to take care not to tip the sled, or fall in the snow.

Over the course of the afternoon, she'll go from house to house of the Interlopers of Milton. Knocking on doors, asking the inhabitants if they wish to trade some rosehip syrup or rosehip tea in exchange for something. Most of the things she'll ask for will be put towards Methuselah's preparations: canned goods, stocks, seasonings. But other times, Kate might ask for small things for herself: art supplies like colouring pencils, books, herbal teas.

Her sled parked behind her, she'll knock on a door. There's even a little sales-pitch rehearsed and everything: let her tell you about the benefits of rosehips! ]

Oh. Hey— [ There's a polite smile. ] I'm sorry to bother you. I was wondering if I could interest you in a trade—?

[ In all honesty, if someone doesn't want to trade, she'll likely give it out for free. ]

[bestsir]

The last month was difficult, but Goodsir at last feels that he's shaken off the worst of the bleakness that had threatened to completely overtake him, and he's venturing out now to check on others.

He finds Kate in the kitchen after following his nose—his sister used to make rose hip jam, and the familiarity of the fragrance startles him.

"Miss Marsh?"

[castitas]

"Oh. Hey, Mr. Goodsir." She looks up from the pan briefly with a tiny smile, pleased to see him. She doesn't stop with her stirring, even with the gentle heat she doesn't want the contents to burn and lose the whole thing. Maybe she's being a little paranoid with this whole 'literally never done this before' thing, but it'll be a lot of work to pour down the drain.

"Sorry, you're kinda early. It's not quite ready yet."

[bestsir]

He ventures closer to see what she's doing. "Is that rose hip jam? My sister made it—our aunt taught her the way of it."

[castitas]

"It's more of a rosehip syrup? Although apparently it can turn into jelly— uh, jam, if it gets cold enough." Given the fact they're in the middle of very, very cold rural Canada, then that might actually just happen.

"These things seem to grow everywhere here. I read in a foraging book I found that they're an anti-inflammatory, and full of Vitamin C." There's a short pause and she makes a little face.

"Um, considering we're... not likely to get any deliveries of fresh fruit or veggies any time soon, I guess we're going to have to take anything we can get."

[bestsir]

Harry has done a little reading and seen references to vitamins, but he's still unclear as to exactly what that is. Fortunately, he's not too embarrassed to ask.

"My aunt swore by the health benefits of the jam. But—perhaps you can explain to me, then, what exactly a vitamin is? I have seen references to the word in some books I've found, and it is prominent on many a label on medicine bottles, but I am not certain that I understand what it is. I gather from the root of the word that it has something to do with life, with vitality, but ..."

He breaks off, aware that he's starting to talk too much.

[castitas]

Kate doesn't mind it at all. She... did sorta give him a free pass to ask her questions, and she does mean that.

"Um, so— wow, okay 3.9 don't let me down." There's a little nervous chuckle as she takes a moment to find the best way to describe it, then breath to brace herself. "A vitamin is a... micronutrient. A lot of them have chemical names, but we call them vitamins too. Our body needs them to remain healthy. Like keeping bones strong, or helping our blood to clot or strengthening our immune system."

Ms. Grant would be pretty happy with that answer, she thinks.

"So yeah, you're right in thinking it has something to do with 'vitality'." It helps them live. "But we can't make them ourselves — so we get them from the food we eat."

[bestsir]

Harry listens, plainly fascinated. The part about clotting blood catches his attention in particular—he's all too familiar with the way scurvy disintegrates a man's scars, causes bleeding in other ways...

"We knew, of course, that lemon juice was antiscorbutic, as were fresh fruits and vegetables, but we did not know why, precisely. If I understand you clearly, it is these ... nutrients, these vitamins, that achieve that effect? Imagine." He smiles, pleased at this new information, though it's sobering as well.

[castitas]

"Yeah, that's basically it." she nods at that. "There's... like this little saying... 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away'."

There's a little sound of mirth before she shrugs. "I think it's trying to emphasize the fact everyone should be eating a balanced diet to stay healthy. We need a little bit of everything. When we don't get those daily nutrients, it's how people end up with vitamin deficiencies. We get sick."

It does feel quite sobering, and she falls to silence for a long moment — just stirring the pot, watching the sugar dissolve. She looks quietly troubled. Will this be enough? The rosehip syrup, will it help? Or... are they going to end up sick? There's no telling how long they'll be stuck here. She remembers a man told her last month: I hope someone finds you before we run out of tins.

two

[myfavoritemurder]

[Callisto very stubbornly refuses to consider herself a resident of fucking anywhere, and so she's been hopping from abandoned house to abandoned house, often without any consideration at all for whoever might have claimed it. The one she's squatting in today is truly empty except for her, though - which means that the woman rolling up with her handcart can't be searching for someone else. Callisto peers at her through the window, completely confounded and a little curious, before pulling open the door and peering at her some more as she gives her pitch.

She can't, she thinks, remember the last time someone wanted to do trade of any sort with her.]

Trade for what?

[castitas]

[ Kate is... more than used to those less than thrilled about her being on their doorstep. Plenty from the Meals on Wheels program are happy to just take the food from her hands and close the door. People are hard, sometimes. She doesn't mind.

So she just... tries to meet it with her usual cheer — even if it's been muted, as of late. She reaches to show the woman a bottle of syrup: a translucent orange-red liquid in a glass bottle. ]

Rosehip syrup. Or I have tea, if you prefer. [ There's a beat before she adds. ] It's homemade, I made it myself.

[myfavoritemurder]

What do you put the syrup in?

[Callisto wonders, leaning in to squint at the bottle. Then, without waiting for an answer:]

I have wolf meat and skins.

[castitas]

You take it neat, a spoonful every day. Or you could dilute it with some water if you'd prefer to make a drink out of it. [ It might be too sweet, concentrated. Watering it down isn't a bad idea, really. ] Rosehip syrup is packed full of vitamin C. It's useful for making sure we don't get sick due to limited diet.

[ The wolf skins do sound like a good idea, she thinks. The fur would be super warm, but it seems like an unfair trade in comparison. She hums, thoughtful for a moment. Oh, wait—! ]

Actually, I was wondering if you might have any of these? [ She reaches into her satchel and pulls out a music cassette tape. She's managed to get her hands on a walkman, which is super retro but honestly...? Listening to music would be nice. ] I'm looking for more of them. Maybe you have some in your... uh, home?

[myfavoritemurder]

["Vitamin C" gets the blankest of blank looks, and the explanation of its health benefits does little to resolve things. Callisto has never heard of it, which means she's gotten by just fine without it for her whole life, which means it can't really be important, can it? This woman is, clearly, a born salesman, ready to spin whatever made-up tales she needs to in order to sell her wares.

But. Callisto has seen one of those thin black squares, actually. Without another word, she turns on her heel and goes to rifle through a desk in the corner of the room, only turning back once she's unearthed what she's looking for: another cassette tape. It's bright pink, has a handwritten label (ROAD TRIP TUNES)... and a good chunk of its tape is completely unspooled, hanging down in ribbons as Callisto holds it out.]

I'll trade you for this one.

[castitas]

[ It wouldn't be the first time that someone's not know what Vitamin C is, to be honest. She's already had to explain it to a couple of Victorians. But said Victorians also know plenty enough about Scurvy.

Her eyes light up at the sight of the tape, before she considers for a moment. Hm. She could probably fix that. It's not like she's short of time in this place. Carefully putting the tape-ribbon back in would certainly give her something to do. But also... she really wants to know what's on a tape called 'Road Trip Tunes'. ]

Deal—! [ She moves to retrieve a bottle form her little sled, holding it out to her. ] Remember, just a little bit every day. Too much Vitamin C will give you a stomach ache. But just a little everyday will stop things like Scurvy.

[myfavoritemurder]

[And Callisto, for her part, snatches the bottle of syrup and holds out the tape in return - holds it by looping a finger through the unspun tape, dangling it down from her hand.

Sorry, Kate.]

What are you going to do with it? The hard part is a storage container, isn't it? But the ribbon seems useless for mending anything.

[castitas]

[ ... Ah.

Well, she's going to do her best to very carefully take the tape from her. Then she stops to put the tape in her back, tucking it into a little side pocket to keep it safe until she gets back to the Community Hall. ]

Well, you're right about that first part. [ She... doesn't know what a cassette tape is for? Just as well that she's had practice with needing to explain things. ] The casing stores the ribbon. So I'll need to fix it by putting the ribbon back in.

The ribbon itself holds music on it. It's a kind of technology.

two + slight wildcard!

[fidior]

[ The days continue to pass by, and while falling into routine makes his existence here easier — knowing what's expected of him, even if it's largely a role that Little's assigned himself — there is much that lingers, and even seems to be worsening. It's difficult to move his body, most days; those aches and pains leave him having to take several moments to himself. He tries to take them only when no one else is around, leaning against a wall or closing his eyes for a moment, head spinning, stomach aching. A certain dizziness persists behind his eyes, and some bizarre sensation of loss, as though something within his mind has eroded. He forgets things, finds certain details mixed together or missing altogether.

But he stays busy. Keeps moving, even if his body often protests and even if his mind feels a separate entity from himself, one with its own will and purpose. (And within it, that Voice still whispers at times, and the nightmares grow worse. He sees Hodgson and Irving, mutilated in his mind's eye. He sees Jopson, bleeding and skeletal and wide-eyed. He sees the captain, and the unknown fate of him leaves Little gasping aloud, jerked sweating and heaving from nightmare.)

He seeks out more to do, here. Apart from his patrols of the town, he starts doing busywork for others, as well as gathering up more supplies to be stocked. Today, he's heading out to the wood to chop trees into logs and gather some smaller twigs and branches as well. He wears his officer's uniform instead of his thicker clothing and greatcoat; while they may be warmer, this one is much easier to move around in. He's also left his usual cap behind, and apart from the usual gun strapped to his back, he carries an axe. As he walks, he spots a familiar figure up ahead, speaking with someone at their door. Edward draws closer but pauses a respectable distance away, so that he can't hear the conversation taking place.

With that, he waits for Kate to be finished with her business, and when she is, he begins to approach her with a friendly, albeit polite, smile. ]

Good day, [ he calls, pleased to see her, although there's also some disquiet in his heart..... He may have been quietly angsting to himself for a good while over something he feels he must apologise to Kate for.... But to begin with, Edward greets her pleasantly, and lets his eyes look to the sled she's pulling. He's mindful not to be nosy about her business, brows lifting but only slightly, and eyes never lingering in any one place on the sled for long. It makes for an oddly muted curiosity, something restrained to the gesture, although there's no mistaking the warmth in his eyes to see young Kate Marsh. ]

May I ask, are you selling wares?

[castitas]

[ Another successful trade, and there's a small smile as she turns to step off the porch with a small, thin, brightly coloured box in her gloved hands. She'd traded a bottle for the colouring pencils, and better yet — as she pauses to examine them — all the contents seem to be intact. Not that she would have minded had one been missing. For all there is little the smile about in this place, this certainly does give her some small spark of joy. She... misses drawing; the things she really wants to draw. Her art... got a bit dark for a while. Some days it still remains dark, but not all the time. ]

Lieutenant—! [ The small smile shifts into something far more brighter as she looks up from the box at the familiar voice. She's... really glad to see him. It feels like a blessing, truly. Today is a good day. She picks up the lead, pulling the sled behind her as she moves towards him. Her eyebrows raise at the question and she turns her head to look down at her sled for a moment before making a soft sound. Ah. ]

Um. Well, trading, specifically.

[ Carefully slipping the box of pencils into the sled with the rest of its contents: canned food mostly, and few miscellaneous pieces she'd traded for herself, in amongst what she's trading. She moves to grab a bottle holding it out for him to take. A clear glass bottle, reused from its original purpose — she'd cleaned and sterilised a good amount of bottles and jars, whatever she could get her hands on. Inside, a pale orange-red translucent liquid. ]

It's Rosehip syrup. I made it myself. Rosehip's got a lot of Vitamin C, and granted we're a little short of fresh fruit and veggies — I figure it would help. [ There's a brief pause as she considers. She's... never actually been able to properly thank him for... well. The whole... standing on the ledge of the Basin thing. She... still feels so ridiculous for the whole thing, and terrible for putting him through it. Even just the thought of it makes her cringe a little, a hot flash of shame from the pit of her stomach. ]

Actually... I'd like you to keep that. I don't need anything back for it. Consider it a 'thank you'.

[fidior]

[ It's not so frequent that Edward Little finds himself greeted with so bright a smile. It may always take him by surprise — certainly a pleasant one. And there's another sort of warmth beneath that one, a relief, to see Kate smiling when not so long ago she was in such a miserable state. He hasn't forgotten it — won't forget it. That danger still lingers in him, the thought of it. He's known what hopelessness can do to someone, when it lasts without any reprieve. And truly, there is none to be found here, is there? No real reprieve for this situation, and so he has been keeping an especially close eye on Kate.

It's only after she's drawn attention to the items on her sled that he lets himself look with more outright curiosity, reaching his free hand upwards to accept the little bottle she hands him, holding it carefully in the palm of his fingerless glove. He's familiar with the rosehip fruit, but not... the rest of what Kate says. Vitamin C?

It sounds important, in any case, and he certainly understands concerns of fruit and vegetables.... He'll inquire more about it shortly, but to begin with the man gently turns the bottle over in his hand as he examines it, already about to offer the idea of giving something in return, when the girl says what she does next, and Edward pauses, expression shifting to a quiet surprise. Ah— ]

You haven't anything to thank me for.

[castitas]

Are you serious? [ She doesn't ask to mock. Surely he's kidding, right? There's a small sound of mirth, almost nervous, in a way. But he... he looks so surprised. ] Of course I do.

[ What comes next isn't so easy to talk about. Her expression shifts into one of quiet shame and anxiousness, head lowering a little in her embarrassment. Last month isn't... great to think about and she fiddles with the sled lead in her hands for a good few moments before she finally brings herself to speak. ]

After— after last month. I feel... so ridiculous for what happened. I'm... I'm so sorry. [ Sorry that she put him through that, sorry he had to hear about the horrible things that she'd been through. Sorry she likely frightened him to death with it all. Her lips purse briefly before she very gently adds: ] And... I'm so grateful for helping me away from that ledge. Everything got so... dark. I haven't felt truly blessed in a long time.

[ Her smile is sad, but there's a genuine thanks in it. There is... perhaps additional motive, too. She's learned about the state of health of those on the expedition from Mr. Goodsir. The lack of nutrients, the Scurvy, the canned food — tainted, spoiled, and the lead. How sick they all got. Edward had mentioned how they'd been trapped for years. All that time without proper food... how sick must they all have gotten...?

He saved her, talked her back from the ledge. The least she can do in return is give him something to help with his own health. Carefully, hand reaches forwards, towards his. She gently tightens his fingers around the bottle with her grasp, nodding once before letting go. ]

So... please, take it.

[fidior]

[ He hasn't brought the incident up to her since then — it isn't his business or place to, and he's only kept it tucked within his own heart for these weeks since. And he's continued to feel that... pull of something, that whisper against the shell of his ear, staved off but never fully gone. You deserve to rot, too.

He doesn't know if it's haunted Kate as well, and will not ask directly. If she wishes to speak of it, of any of it, then— ah. His eyes shift in a particular way, a softer warmth of understanding as he listens. There's a moment when he means to give his head a shake — she doesn't have anything to apologise for, not her — but he falls still again, letting her speak. Then there's his hand, coaxed more tightly by her gesture, and he lets his fingers grasp the bottle more firmly, looking down to it for a moment before back up. ]

Please— you need not be sorry. Not for anything. [ He's a little awkward with his words, aware that he'd been very open and talkative at that moment with Kate on the edge, but.... everything had truly come from his heart. Edward draws the bottle back closer to his person, holding firm to it. ]

It was no burden on my heart then, and it is not now. I am only grateful that you are well, and I remain grateful.

[ He smiles, a slight and polite gesture, but there's a visible warmth to his eyes, something that not even his maintained manners can subdue. ]

Thank you, for the gift. I shall use it well. Though I must admit, I know not what Vitamin C is. [ He is... definitely thinking of it like "vitamin sea" in his mind... ]

[castitas]

... I feel like I should be sorry for probably giving you a heart-attack by scaring you, at the very least. [ Yes, she knows he said there's no apology necessary. But it matters enough to be said, to seek forgiveness for harms against others. In way, she did harm him — probably scared him to death. Even if she guesses he wouldn't change it, he wouldn't not be there to help her. She is deeply sorry for that, at the very least. ]

I'm keeping busy. It helps, a bit. [ The Voice might not add to her thoughts, but there's still plenty of her own to contend with. Her problems remain, with no way to really do anything about them now she's stuck here. And then there's... here, this place. The cold, the dark, the quiet. It doesn't do her spirit much good.

But she's happy he does accept the syrup as a gift at her insistence, and she brightens again, looking quite pleased about it for a moment. He honestly deserves the gift, okay? She won't hear otherwise. And besides, it's something to help him. ]

A spoonful a day should be enough, you could even dilute it with water if you find it kinda too sweet. I dried some to be used as a tea if you ever want some of it, too. [ And she was... honestly kind of expecting it. She already had to explain it to Mr Goodsir, and there's an amused little chuckle. ] It's what we call a micronutrient. Something our bodies need in order to be healthy, which we get from food. When we have limited diets, we end up with deficiencies of certain vitamins.... which means we get sick.

[ She hesitates, her lips pursing tightly. Whatever humour she had is quickly lost by the end of her words. There's worry in her expression, fretful for him, and Mr Goodsir too. All those years, without a proper diet and.... eating from contaminated cans of food. They both seem okay now, but she can't really know for sure. There could be plenty she doesn't know about. ]

... Mr Goodsir told me about how everyone was getting sick from scurvy, and the... um, the lead poisoning, too.

[fidior]

[ Edward's smile thins slightly, not because he is offput by her words, but only that he won't diminish the severity to them. To all of this. ]

I am wholly grateful I was there, [ he offers, gently. It's... a delicate matter, and he doesn't want to rouse upsets within her, but he needs her to know as much. He's glad he was there. Glad he followed her. Glad he.... kept going. Not for his own sake, but for hers. If she'd been left standing there alone....

...he shudders to think of it. For a moment he stands there, weighted by the thoughts of what-if, brow knit, before he's looking up again. Keeping busy — ah, it's a concept he's well-familiar with. On that note....it's a thought he'll come back to shortly, but firstly he's listening to Kate explain further, and lifts the bottle up to his eyelevel, looking to it. Something so seemingly simple as this, contains such potential to keep one healthy....? Certainly he doesn't doubt what she says, it's only a lot to grasp.

Then Kate says what she does next, and the man pauses, lowering the bottle a little so that he can look at her instead. He can't control his expression quickly enough, something softly stricken there in his eyes for a moment. He hadn't... spoken much of such things, to anyone here. In fact, there are many things he hasn't spoken of. ...Not even of the potential dangers of Hickey, a fact that Edward has been keeping to his own heart, a quiet truth shared only with Mr. Goodsir, while the pair of them keep a watchful eye on things.

But this truth... he supposes, would come out sooner or later. He has tried to conceal his own... ailments, but while some things have eased over time here, others.... have not. It is one of many horrors that haunt his heart. And so for a long moment he just stares, mouth parted slightly, before he gives a soft exhale, and an apologetic dip of his head, as though slightly ashamed he hadn't spoken of it before now. ]

Ah— yes, it was... unexpected. We had made preparations against the scurvy, but the cans.....

[ ....It was nothing any of them could have imagined. And the effects of such a thing... were more horrific than anything they could have imagined, either. He pauses again, eyes fluttering slightly; the horror of it haunts his dreams and his waking thoughts alike, makes his stomach tight and ill thinking about how he may yet end up the way others had. But he does not want to frighten her, shaking his head softly. ]

.....Truthfully, I still do not know what may come of it. So it is a true blessing to have this — thank you for your generosity. [ He bows his head again, and carefully tucks the bottle into his trouser pocket. ]

I imagine he was quite intrigued to hear about this... micronutrient, you called it? On the ships, he was very involved — he was the one to discover.... what was happening, with the cans.

[castitas]

... Me, too. [ Her voice is quiet, but it's sincere. She's grateful. Perhaps more so than what she was at the time, now she's had time to try to grapple with some things. There are parts of it all she still needs time yet to work through: things are uncertain, but settled for now. It was no quick fix, and there's still plenty in this place that dampens her spirits — but there are little slithers of hope in amongst it all.

She really is glad he was there, even with how terrible for him she feels about it. Even with how ridiculous she feels. He was there for her, he helped her. He... stopped her from doing something she wouldn't be able to take back. He told her her worth, her value — reminded her of it, even. And what's more: he offered her a hand. To remind her she isn't alone; that it's there for her, if she needs it. And she's incredibly grateful for it, for him.

It's not as if he owes her an explanation, considering everything. She kinda gets why he wouldn't say anything. Being sick means people start to worry, there's too much going on at once before you even bring something like this into it. Besides, how do you even go about talking about something like that? ]

I get now why you really needed to get back to your men. [ She offers it sadly. She's sorry for him, for all of them. There's a little beat, before she adds: ] I.. I could pray for them, if you like. If I could give them the syrup or tea too, I would.

[ She can't. She knows that. Maybe if more of his men turn up, she could at least do more than praying there. ]

I don't know if it helps, but— [ Kate really hopes it does. Even if might not help his men, back home. ] They don't use lead with canned food anymore.

[ Some kinda silver lining, she hopes. And there's the fact that he doesn't have to worry about the canned food they find in this place having the same issues as the ones from the expedition. People won't get sick here like that, he doesn't risk the danger of getting any sicker from contained food (neither will Mr Goodsir, or even Mr Hickey, for that matter).

Speaking of, she does brighten up again at the question — her smile a little warmer. ]

He was—! [ There's amusement in her expression, but it's there with fondness. It's clear she does like Mr Goodsir a lot. ] And just about everything else in general, too. I kind of gave him a free pass to ask me questions he has about the future so I'm helping him fill in blanks with things. He's really smart.