it must be that old evil spirit

[singmod]

SEPTEMBER 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — PAINFUL REMINDERS: An Aurora briefly connects the Interlopers to their homeworlds, and with it are able to receive items from home — but these ones will bring no comfort to them.

PROMPT TWO — THE ENEMY WITHIN: Strange and familiar occurrences begin in Milton and Lakeside, growing in frequency and danger for the Interlopers. Who can truly be trusted among their numbers?

PROMPT THREE — BAD BLOOD: The Forest Fighters finally come to Milton, and with it: they bring the yawning grave.

PAINFUL REMINDERS

WHEN: 5th - 9th of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially upsetting themes; themes of loneliness/isolation.

For many, the sight of the Aurora is now one they have become used to. There have been plenty of them over the year that has passed since the Interlopers first came to the Northern Territories. Often, they have been a sign of great danger, with plenty of unsettling and unnatural things happening when the skies light up. Other times they have been the herald of aid — a link between Interlopers and Enola, gifting them with abilities to help them survive in this world. There is no real knowing what kind of force the Aurora is, truly. And there is a tension that holds amongst the Interlopers as the day turns to night and there is the soft sound that grows louder.

The ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds, is difficult to place. Perhaps it sounds like voices, or discordant strings. And with it, the low-drone of electrical buzz — punctuated with the echoing pops and sharp cracks. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as time goes on — greens, blues, pinks and purples shifting and dancing across the night. And much like every Aurora before this one, the electricals of the world come to life too. Homes, streetlamps, cars long-stranded in the snow. Man’s world comes alive, buzzing and flickering precariously.

But there are no ghosts like there once was a year ago. No terrible weather, no poisonous fog. If one could call it a ‘normal’ Aurora, that’s what it appears to be. But there is something else in amongst all the light and noise. Snatches of things: whispers of conversations, names called, laughter and tears.

You realise you recognise these voices. They are the voices of home. Perhaps you hear your mother, your siblings or friends. Whoever they are, you can hear them. And although they might not be able to hear you — for one brief night, the Aurora has connected you, bridged the gap between your world and this one. You may sit for a while, simply listening to the voices, relishing in hearing those from back home. If others join you, you will find yourself compelled to speak of them: to share in stories about those from back home — the connections you share with them.

It’s strange, though. These voices do not fill you with comfort or joy. Instead you are left with feelings of sadness, anger, and isolation. The Aurora has connected Interlopers, but now you feel so cut off from home, cut off from friends and loved ones — reminded of everything left behind. Everything you long for. Everything you have lost.

Something strange skips through the sky, a warping of the sound. It’s unsettling. Something feels... wrong, somehow.

It’s not just the voices that will remind you of this. Something else comes through the Aurora after that night. A small token will be brought through. Whatever the item may be, when you go to sleep and next wake, you will find said item. It may be placed on your bedside, on your desk or dining room table.

The item, you will find, will bring you a reminder of pain. Of sadness. Of horror. Perhaps it’s something you haven’t thought of in some time. Maybe it is something that has lingered in the back of your mind. Perhaps it is a part of you, waiting to be uncovered. A sign of something to come. A painful reminder of your past, or an ominous omen of your future.

THE ENEMY WITHIN

WHEN: The month of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: kidnapping/attempted kidnapping; attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; animal mutilation; corpse mutilation/manipulation/desecration; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character/npc death.

It starts with strange happenings at night, things left to be found by the next morning. Those within Lakeside many find themselves unsurprised by it, given their location, but the scenes found in Milton are a foreboding sight.

Mutilated bodies of animals: rabbits, ptarmigans, even deer — mangled and strewn about the streets, blood upon the snow. Some may awaken in the middle of the night to the sounds of their windows breaking, with houses on the Outskirts being targeted more than those in the middle of town. There is… a kind of unrest in the world.

It escalates.

Some may leave their home for the day and return in the evening to find the place trashed: items broken, precious foodstuffs thrown about the place and destroyed. Those within the Outskirts are once again particularly vulnerable, as are those within Lakeside. Fires are started in some of the abandoned buildings of Milton. Something, someone is targeting the Interlopers.

It is hard to pin-point who exactly, and it only puts the Interlopers on high alert. Nothing like this has never happened before. This is new, especially in Milton.

As the month progresses, the acts become more serious. Fires may be started in the middle of the night in Interlopers’ homes while they sleep. Some are attacked in the night, others are taken from their beds. Some killed within their very homes. Of the Interlopers that go missing, their mutilated remains may be found days later out in the wilds.

In Milton, soon enough, someone is bold enough to come out from the darkness, out from the gloom of the night. Interlopers may be attacked in broad daylight — by those they may recognise as newer Interlopers of the community, who appeared from the wilds: lost and shivering, with nowhere else to go. Some of them have been within Milton for a few months now.

Those in Lakeside will face something similar: Forest Talkers are making a move, rogue and isolated incidents — done with sabotaging attempts at hunting and taking a more direct approach.

They have no qualms about being captured or killed, only determined to get rid of as many of the Interlopers as they can. They whisper, they scream: “You don’t belong here. You should never have come here. It wants you gone, it wants us all gone. The end is here, it’s too late for any of us. Nature must run its course. The yawning grave has been opened.”

The attack is on two fronts: the first of Forest Talkers in Lakeside amplifying their actions. The second in Milton, enemies within the ranks of the Interlopers, Forest Talkers hiding as Interlopers.

Within Milton, newer Interlopers will likely be met with suspicion as being some of the Forest Fighters as a result of these individual acts of violence. As the numbers of Milton have been infiltrated, and it’s easy to have mistrust amongst those newer to the community. In-fighting is likely, and the entire town is stuck in some terrible, tense state — unsure of who to trust within their own numbers. In the days and weeks that follow, it remains like this. Acts of violence and vandalism — chaos and disorder.

BAD BLOOD

WHEN: The night of 27th - 28th September.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; mentions of blood; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character death/npc death; actual NPC death.

Towards the end of the month, the moon is full. They call it the Harvest Moon, but colour seeps into it — oranges and reds: a blood moon, partially eclipsed. The night is calm and cloudless, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the night.

The earth groans, the rumble of another quake that’s plagued the Northern Territories since the beginning of August. It is the only warning Interlopers will get — if they may realise it as a warning. To some, when they look back, it’s a omen, a starting pistol.

They do not come through the Mines. Thanks to the efforts of Interlopers to guard the entrances of the Milton Mines, they know better. They come to town from the south, not the north.
The quakes of August and September have opened a new way from Lakeside to Milton. They are led by their Leader: a man dressed in white, a large deer skull upon his head. And while their numbers are small in comparison, they come armed and with the determination to get rid of the Interlopers once and for all. As they come into town, they launch their attack.

More fires will be set, Interlopers will be attacked with abandon. Shot at, stabbed, beaten. It is a mass execution. They will not stop until the Interlopers, or them, are dead.

Well, the majority of them. There are just under a dozen teenagers and younger people amongst their ranks who have shown hesitance toward violence in the past. Perhaps they can be reasoned with. Perhaps there may be a way to convince them to abandon their cause. There is fear in their eyes. Some of them do not want to die. They fear the yawning grave.

What will do you then, Interloper? Are you willing to fight for your life? Are you willing to take another’s to save your own, or a friends? Will you hide, or run? What choice will you make? The Forest Talkers have long since made their own choice. Now you must make yours.

It is another night of chaos on a town already scarred by the events of June. Interlopers will note two familiar faces in the fray: at some point during the night both Methuselah and Young Bill will arrive. While Methuselah will concentrate on aiding the wounded and trying to shelter Interlopers the best he can, Young Bill will help protect Interlopers from the Forest Talkers with his rifle in hand. But fortunately, it is just for one single night. Ammunition runs out, sides are switched, and people are killed. As dawn approaches, Forest Talker numbers dwindle. Either killed, incapacitated or defected. In the early morning light, bodies lie in the snow both Interloper and Forest Talker alike.

Those trying to hunt down the leader will see him slipping inside an empty cabin, heavily wounded. Following after him, they will find him settling himself down to kneel on the floor. The white of his tactical gear stained red with blood as it blooms from his wounds. Slowly, he removes the deer skull from his head to reveal a clean-shaven man in his late twenties with a shock of white-blond hair. His eyes are blue, calm.

He sets the skull down, panting and sweating. He is dying. He is not afraid.

“My name is Mallory, not that it matters now. We are dead, you and I.” he says softly. “We exist in a dying world.”

He is in much pain from his wounds. He moves again to sit cross-legged on the floor. A hand touches the bloodied fabric of his front and he laughs humourlessly.

“You don’t understand, do you? The end must come. That is the order of things. The end must come so the world can be reborn. That is how it’s always worked. When the world is swallowed, it will grow again from the earth.”

It is a story. The story of the Darkwalker. Some believe it to be the end of the world, but Young Bill had once said there is another telling of the tale. A creation myth. The Darkwalker swallows the world and returns to its slumber within the earth. Within it, everything its swallowed grows again and the world returns.

“We fought against man’s actions to ruin this place, not knowing our true purpose. The Devourer has shown me the truth, and I sought to put that into action.” His head tilts to one side. “The yawning grave is opened. Does new life not grow from the decay? It is a cycle. The grave and the cradle.”

He finds it difficult to breathe, but he presses on.

“You fight to live. You come here and you do not see what you are. You are only delaying the inevitable, perverting the true course. Prolonging the suffering. You are the Interlopers, you are not part of nature’s design. The Darkwalker does not want you here. And where it fails, we have tried to succeed.”

There’s another laugh, something catching in his throat. He coughs, blood bubbling from his lips.

“And failed. For now. The First Cursed cannot hold it forever. She, too, delays the inevitable." Even as he is dying, he still have the energy to sneer. He speaks of Enola. "A woman who plays at being a god. What right does she have? All must go into the Long Dark. ... As will I. Return me to the grave.”

Mallory’s head dips, his body sagging. He inhales once more and then stops.

FAQs

PAINFUL REMINDERS


1. Players must sign up for items. See the toplevel on the plotting post.

2. Items will face the same warps/nerfs as everything else that is brought into the game.

3. Items can be no bigger than something your character can reasonably carry.

4. While items do not have to belong to your character, there has to be a good reason why they’d receive such an item — ie. something related to your character.


THE ENEMY WITHIN

1. The Forest Talkers within Milton are a number of NPCs that have been pre-selected from NPCs who arrived in April and August. Not all of them will show their true intentions as the month goes on but will continue to stay hidden.

2. Two NPCs killed in the June Event were also Forest Talkers. … Good… job?

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers at this stage: Devon Busswood; Rita Yee; Realm Lovejoy.


BAD BLOOD

1. Following the events of this prompt, Interlopers now have an additional way into Lakeside. It’s still rather dangerous: it’s through a partially collapsed cave system that ends into abandoned bunker on the Lakeside side. The game map will be marked accordingly in due course.

2. Some Interlopers may recognise a familiar face in the Forest Talker ranks: the man who was kidnapped by Interlopers previously in July has returned. Looks like he made good on his promise. He's come back to cause problems.

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers during the attack: Jackie Blackmore; Ross Huguet; Jennifer Kitchen; Daniel Kresco.

4. As a reminder of numbers: around fifty Forest Talkers will show up for the attack.

5. There is an OOC vote on the fate of the remaining Forest Talkers, the link is here.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

i do what i want!!!

[notarat]

It feels like he's the one on fire at this point.

It didn't start like this. But-- the Forest Talkers were attacking his house, his house, and it felt like they threatened to ruin every single thing Billy was trying to build up in his new life here. He was afraid of his house burning, he was afraid of Hickey getting hurt in the middle of it all, and before he knew it, he had set one of them on fire. And then another.

And he can still feel it within him. He's lost Hickey in the chaos, and he had to get away from his house the moment he was afraid that his feelings would threaten to accidentally set it on fire as well, so Billy has started to wander through town. But he can't get rid of the heat. He can feel his emotions swirling around inside of him, and the fire swirling around right alongside it, burning at his fingertips.

And he can see-- something. In the distance. Two figures, half-hidden by the darkness. Both of them holding guns, pointed at each other. Still walking in his straight line, Billy is getting closer and closer to the scene, and he realizes he recognizes one of them - mostly due to the familiar shape of Little's clothing.

He doesn't recognize the other. But it's obvious, with their gun raised at the other man like that. A Forest Talker.

Billy could leave. Would it matter if the Forest Talker killed Little? There has always been some resentment here - certainly not as strong as with Irving, but serving three men he found incredibly incompetent for their rank wasn't exactly fun.

.. but he also thinks of the meal Edward immediately served him. The weird insistence on calling each other by their name. The way he came to him after the town meeting - not to chastise him, but to tell him he was worried about him.

It makes the feelings complicated. So complicated. And Billy is still feeling so warm on the inside, the fire feeling like it's licking at the palms of his hands, and--

"Mr. Little!" He calls out, trying to get the other's attention.

The Forest Talker turns his gun onto Billy instead, but the latter doesn't even blink at it, doesn't move. Instead he's looking at Edward, not the Forest Talker as he says: "Step back!"

Hopefully Edward listens to that advice. Because the moment Billy sees the Forest Talker's hand move for the trigger, his breath quickens, his eyes narrow, and a moment later the Forest Talker spontaneously combusts with a near-inhuman shriek of pain that doesn't stop.

JELLE OFF THE STRING (cw: death by burning)

[fidior]

It's as though things will always repeat. This chaotic, dizzying nightmare. People running, crying, screaming. Fog and smoke and the sharp smell of blood. An overarching threat, a looming dread, a sharp and nearly debilitating flare of fear. June's bloodshed, Milton House ablaze, the trial back on the shale, Carnivale—

He holds his gun now the same way he has time and time again, but he won't use it. Not again, never on a person ever again. He intends it mostly to be threatening, or as a blunt weapon if absolutely necessary, but.... Little will never fire another bullet. Not after what he'd done to Mikel.

He's at a stand-still with one of them. Barrel aimed at barrel, and his own hands are shaking: nerves raw, throat slick, stomach sick. He might die any second. He probably will. And there are people he needs to protect, that's the only thing he has to hold onto, the only thing keeping him wanting to live — but if it comes at the cost of killing someone else... he can't do it again. Not yet.

'Mr. Little!' The unexpected voice has Edward's head snapping that way immediately, as both he and the Forest Talker turn their attention to the approaching man. William? He feels numbed shock, but something in him manages to hear and listen to the other's instructions to step back, and he does, not understanding why, just doing it.

Then it happens. It's almost surreal, doesn't make any sense to see. Except he has seen something like this happen before, although not aimed at a person, just... accidental, flames set upon a shed, and a man who was somehow, impossibly, responsible for them. But Raju isn't here, only Gibson—

The Forest Talker is screaming. Edward drops his shotgun to the ground, watching with a horror that's almost transfixed, and knowing that the inferno is too severe to be stopped. He could be back at Carnivale now, helplessly watching Stanley burn and crumple to the ground in charred black. The smell of cooking flesh and melting skin, the sounds — sizzles, pops. His eyelids flutter, heart pounding, body numb. Through it all, there's something absolutely terrified, but he's not sure where it belongs to — William? The world itself?

Abruptly he turns away and covers his face, though with fingers spread to reveal his eyes, saucer-wide, his breathing ragged and strained.

[notarat]

Even though Billy knew what was going to happen, even though he's the one that caused this, there's still a very similar feeling that spreads throughout him. Maybe not as intense as what's happening within the other man, but he can still feel all of it. His heart beats so rapidly inside of his chest, and his hands feel so, so impossibly warm. His entire body does. It's like his chest always fills itself up with fire whenever he allows it to spread outside of him, burning him up from the inside.

He sucks in a deep breath, trying to will the feeling down. Despite the screaming, despite the scent of burnt flesh that is so much like what happend at Carnivale, just a little bit too much like it. This time he's not at risk, he tells himself. This time he isn't a potential victim.

It doesn't get rid of the hot feeling in his hands, but as the Forest Talker stops screaming, as the person turns into nothing more than a dead charred body as it drops over into the snow, Billy does manage to calm himself down a little. Just a little. Just enough that he can take a step towards the horrified-looking other man without fearing that he might set the former lieutenant on fire as well.

Even though the chaos is still audible from all sides - gunshots from somewhere, fire from further in the distance, people yelling things that are impossible to make it between it all - it suddenly feels impossibly quiet in the space they're currently standing in now the Forest Talker's screaming has stopped.

".. Mr. Little?" Billy tries again - though not fully breaching the distance between the two of them just yet, not when some part of him still feels like it's on fire inside of him. Not while Little himself looks like he has seen three ghosts at once.

[fidior]

Through all of the horrible things he's witnessed both before and here in this place, it's.... this that strikes Little the most. It's this that he has difficult handling. The smell, the sizzle, the sounds of someone screaming.... and in the distance, the sounds of more distress, weirdly muffled, like they were back in the fog, when men were being torn apart by Tuunbaq. It stuns him in a particular way, makes him feel small and young and completely helpless. He's shaking uncontrollably, keeps his face covered like that, like he's a child unable to face reality.

It's Gibson's voice that once again pulls him back into it, though hazily, dimly. Little feels like he's somewhere far away. Through it all, the details are there, things even he can't pretend not to see.

Gibson did... this. He set the man ablaze, the same way Raju set that shed ablaze. He's—

Edward shudders violently and draws a sharp breath. He can't help himself from flinching, almost as though away from William's voice, but he's soon enough peering widely back over his shoulder at him, half-turning and still wholly stunned. The man isn't screaming anymore. He's dead, and Little can't look directly over at him, though he sees the lump of black in his peripheral and feels ill.

"William. I—" His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. He almost just died. Billy saved him. Billy killed the man, set him on fire.

He can't stop his eyes from dropping to his former steward's hands, staring widely there. Can't stop the fear that lingers in his gaze. He swallows, hard, forces out words, but he's still trembling and it's all a messy process.

"H-how long have you been able to..." Do that.

[notarat]

If it was anyone else, he may have taken the fearful reaction on the other's end as an insult. Something hurtful, perhaps.

But when it's appearing on Little's face in a situation like this, Billy knows it doesn't mean much. It doesn't mean anything personal, at least. He's fairly convinced Little would be scared of a particularly loud dog, let alone someone who can set people on fire with their thoughts.

"Since the beginning of the year," he replies. Right after he showed up. Considering that summer came and passed, it's easy to tell that means it's been months and months of him having been able to do this, even if there was just never a reason to bring it up with Edward of all people.

(This isn't so bad though. Billy can still feel the emotions racing through him from setting this fire, and if he can stick to factual questions he doesn't have to think about, maybe he can keep his emotions contained, keep the fire from further leaking out.)

".. I can control it now."

He's not sure why he adds it. He wouldn't call it reassurance, for one. Maybe just clarification, not wanting to be seen as some sort of out of control mad man, even if the ability has made him feel that way at times.

[fidior]

The beginning of the year... So it's been a good while. Little had no idea that more people were capable of such an ability, though admittedly, he hasn't looked into it much. Hasn't inquired about it, brought it up directly at all, those strange... powers (curses, he thinks) that some people have developed here.

Until he himself was given one. And now he can turn into a beast with sharp teeth and claws, and smell and see and feel the world too much, too well. It terrifies him.

'I can control it now.' Little pauses at that, studying him silently. Raju couldn't, when he'd witnessed it for himself that time, all those months ago. It seemed... tethered to his emotional state: the flames growing worse when he'd been angry, upset, afraid. Little doesn't know that for sure (since, again, he hadn't dared to check in about it again after that...) But it clearly wasn't something that Raju was able to control. To hear that William can... What does that mean? Has he been practicing it?

"....I see," he says, quietly. Not offhanded by any means, just... still shocked, and yet not fully unfamiliar with the concept. He doesn't dare look back over at the dead body only a few feet away, breathing hard in the cold for a few long moments before he speaks again.

"I've seen someone else— he was able to conjure flame this way." He looks visibly shaken as he speaks, unable to stop the tremour in his voice.

"Although not as.... precisely. How did you... manage to hone it?"

[notarat]

"It grows with your emotions."

He isn't necessarily aware that Little already knows that much. He might know, he might not know - it's a little more likely that he would know if he's seen someone else use this power, but perhaps he only saw it, rather than talking to that person about it. Billy knows that it can be hard to tell what exactly causes the fire if you're just witnessing it externally.

The man breathes in. He breathes out. In the distance he can hear the sounds of struggles - gunshots, a scream - but Billy does exactly what he's taught himself, exactly the thing they're talking about right now. Controlling his emotions so he can control his powers.

"So I just have to stay calm." Or as calm as he can be. He doesn't feel fully calm, considering the circumstances, but Billy is very well aware that he could let his panic spiral so much more than he's allowing it to do in this moment. He's just doing his best not to, because he knows what the consequences would be.

As he looks at the other man, he can't help but think it's a good thing Little didn't end up with this power. The way his voice shakes, that stunned look in his eyes--

The whole town would have burned down by now.

"Even now."

[fidior]

It grows with one's emotions. It truly makes sense, now. Edward's eyes widen slightly more, stun mixed with understanding. It's a terrifying prospect, to be sure (it is a good thing that he wasn't gifted this ability.... very hazardous....) and while making sense of it should help lessen the fear of it all, admittedly... it doesn't. Not just yet.

He's never wanted to know more about strange, frightening, supernatural things. Other men might seek to understand them, whether to make peace with them or even to attempt to conquer and control them, but Little has never been one of those men. For Tuunbaq, he only felt apprehension and horror. The same can be said for these "abilities" that certain Interlopers have been bestowed with, including his own.

But at least his is something that he seems able to.... turn on and then off again, at will. He can't imagine having something like this lingering under his skin, so dangerous and unpredictable. He stares back at his former steward, mind swirling with thought, and with the sounds of battle still going on around them in the near distance.

Not for the first time, he's stricken with the awareness that he barely knows Gibson at all, despite having spent years with the other man in his close vicinity. It's such a strange thing, and— how is it that he's able to stay calm, in this? How can he? After a few long moments, he asks.

"How.... do you do it? How do you stay calm?" But he finds more building in him, throat tightening, pulse quick, mind dizzied. The smell of a man's burning flesh is still so raw in his senses.

"How do you not lose yourself to the horrors around us? To the horrors of what you've had to do?"

[notarat]

It's not a bad question - certainly not by the standards of the man standing there and asking it, certainly. After all, it's not like Billy would have imagined himself ever capable of such a thing. He still remembers the first time he realized he had this power, nearly accidentally burning down the house he shares with Hickey, and feeling terrified that maybe he never would have control over it. That he would have to spend the rest of his days worried about burning down everything around him.

He knows now, though. Why he feels less freaked out than back then. Why he's okay with the horrors of what he has to do. Once you gain a little bit of control over this, and then more and more, it starts to feel less like helplessness and more like power.

And power is something he's never had. He's never been able to stand up for himself or speak up for himself until he had something to back it up, the way he does now. If it wasn't for this power, would he even be out here? Wouldn't he have tried to stay back in the house? If it wasn't for this power, Rorschach would have killed him months and months ago.

Still - is that something he can tell Little, of all people? Billy severely doubts a man like Edward Little would understand such a thing.

So he goes for a different reason when he speaks. Still one that's also true, but a little less likely to give anyone in town reason to go after him if they hear about this from Edward.

"We have to think of ourselves," he says, after that slight quiet moment. "When the alternative is to lay down and die. Who would squander their second chance at life?"

[fidior]

Little doesn't know what answer he expects, if any at all. He's encountered so many in this place who are capable of.. keeping it together, of doing what needs to be done. Bigby, Wynonna, and Hickey are the top three who come to his mind. Their methods have been... vastly unlike Little's, in different ways, and yet they've been able to not only survive here, but thrive, more than he'd ever be capable of doing. They're three of the people here that Little considers strong (which is an odd awareness to have of Hickey, specifically, but.... time has changed some things.)

'Who would squander their second chance at life?'

.....What does it say of him, who has continuously let himself be harmed in this place, who won't fight back, refuses to protect himself? If Gibson hadn't come to his quick rescue just now, Edward would be dead. He would be dead.

It's not that he wants that..... Does he?

Surely, it must seem that way to any observing him.

"I believe.... you have every right to fight for your life here," he agrees, quietly. Even if it still churns his stomach to think of the death and destruction, of the fact that Gibson is capable of killing a man so violently now.... Little is in no position to judge, and he wouldn't dare try to. He knows the truths behind the mutiny now, knows Gibson's part in it, but as complicated as it all is, Little still feels the other man was forced into a particular situation. That it was all severely unfair, what happened to him.

Because even now, he feels a certain responsibility for William Gibson. He was one of Little's men, and Little failed him.

"But these... gifts.... To be touched by the supernatural.... Are you not afraid? What you might become?"

He is. He's terrified of it.

[notarat]

It's a strange question.

Mostly because it's something he's never really thought of. Sure, he was afraid of his power and what it could do when he first realized he had it, but it's not like he ever thought it would fundamentally change him. His power is strange, but it's just that. A power. Something he can use, something he can try to control.

Billy has never considered the intertwining of power and identity - and even now it feels strange, thinking about it. Being presented with it.

Still, the situation they're in still isn't great, so he doesn't spend too much time thinking on it now either. He just echoes the question right back at the other.

"What do you think you might become?"

Why don't you explain it to him, Edward? Because Billy can't even imagine where your mind must be going right now.

[fidior]

Of all the men from their expedition here, it's Gibson that Little has opened up to the most, directly. It's never been in the form of a nice, calm conversation.... rather, in the throes of some turmoil, where Edward's bared his soul and his truths and his former steward has told his own — with a lot less misery. It's all almost been almost factual, coming from William, as opposed to Edward's emotional.

Even now, the question bleeds no emotion, and Little stares at him, startled by it. Yet like has been the case each time he's spoken to this man so honestly (no longer bound by their old roles, no longer keeping up some polite distance from one another, but everything open wide and raw), Little doesn't run away from the words. Gibson... unapologetically demands him to face certain things, and Little does it. Even if it aches, even if it forces him to confront some of his worse thoughts and fears, he stays with it.

He doesn't deserve to run away from this man, after all, or any of the men. Not even Hickey.

So he stays there, faces that question. His nostrils flare and his heart pounds like some scared, trapped animal. The wind whips his hair, tangling locks of messy waves and stinging his eyes. But he stays standing there.

"A monster," he says quietly. Is that the word for it? He thinks of Bigby Wolf, and how unfair that word seems to use, when the other man can do exactly what he can do now, was that way before he came to this place, and yet isn't something that Edward would ever refer to as monster... He's a good man, even if he isn't actually a man at all, but a beast, a wolf.

But for himself... Edward can't see it that way.

He realises that just like that, he's confessed to Gibson that he's been Touched by the supernatural, too.

(He could also say that he's afraid of becoming a killer, but he's already become one, hasn't he.)

"What if we're.... changed by this, over time? What if it turns us into something else?"

[notarat]

He has a power too. It's obvious. If it wasn't obvious enough from the other's words, it would be obvious just from his posture here alone. If it's something serious enough that Edward even considers it might turn him into a monster, then it has to be an active power too, rather than some of the more passive ones Billy has seen around. And it can't be the same power as him either, since he's pretty sure Edward's fear and nerves would have burned down this entire city by now if it was that.

.. that leaves very few options, doesn't it? And Hickey had said that he was getting closer with the other man, so..

Christ, is it the wolf thing? Of all powers to give, of all people to give it to? And Edward is seriously thinking it might change him into a monster?

Billy breathes in, and it's mostly the scent of fire and ash that's keeping him from getting too exasperated here, sharply reminded of their current circumstances.

"The only thing that can turn you into something else is you yourself," he simply says. It's something Billy believes to be true. None of the people in the mutiny were changed into anything else because of circumstances, after all. They were just doing the sort of things they were inclined to do under those circumstances. Even Hickey stabbing him falls into that category, as far as Billy is concerned.

He breathes in.

"If you don't realize that, Mr. Little, this place will be the death of you."

It doesn't sound ominous. It's not a threat. It's not even said all that harshly on Billy's end - it just sounds like he's stating something he considers a fact.

Maybe it's a warning, more than anything else. If their current chaotic situation is proving anything, it's that Edward can't stay the way he is now. Not when these are the sorts of things they are dealing with. He wouldn't have survived any of the things they went through back home with this sort of mentality - Billy knowing fully well the main thing that saved Edward is his position.

[fidior]

Is it true? Would he want it to be true? It would give him so much more autonomy, after all — so much more control over himself. Not a victim to his circumstances, but a thing shaped however it needs to be shaped, by them.

....But he's never been that way. He's been shaped by everything around him, rather than shaping himself. Whether it's keeping the peace by swallowing everything down, every anger, every upset, every hurt. And he knows he's not the only one who swallowed things down — this very man before him had done much the same, especially given his particular role. But the difference is that now, Gibson seems.. freed of that, whereas Little.... isn't. He still isn't freed of it.

He stands there staring widely at the other man, hair whipped into tangles by the bitter chill in the air. The sounds of fighting are closer, louder, worse; he knows this is dangerous. Perhaps if he were to shift into that "monster" form... he could be in less danger himself, and keep more people safe as a result. It's a strange thought.

'If you don't realize that, Mr. Little, this place will be the death of you.'

He's weirdly calm in the face of those words. Raju had said something much the same — more aggressively, angrily than Gibson says it now, but.. it reminds Little of those words now. He just stands there, shuddering softly in the cold, and in the aftermath of a man burned to death right before his very eyes.

"Maybe that is what I deserve."

He voices it almost assuredly, as though it's something he's always known. And— he has. He has, ever since he'd stumbled up to Milton on his very first day, offering his greatcoat to anyone he came across, nearly freezing himself in the process. It's not that he's trying to die, or even wants to, it's just.... He wouldn't fight against it. He wouldn't try to protect himself. He won't, even now.

But it's not the time or place for Gibson to have to keep dealing with this, and Little dips his head again, breathing hard once more, nostrils flaring as he comes down back into the present.

"...You should seek cover. I fear things are growing worse." He casts a look back to the corpse of his assailant for a moment, wincing deeply. He's not even sure Gibson would be worried about such a thing, but Little remembers the trial last time, and if anyone were to find out that he'd killed someone with his powers... even if it's one of the Forest Talkers....

"I'll not tell anyone."

[notarat]

Billy stares at the other man in the darkness.

He's mostly mulling over the other's initial statement - like a question that Billy can't fully answer either. He is convinced that Edward Little does deserve something negative, yes. For having been part of what seemed like an useless command. For letting things get so bad in the first place. For having thought more of themselves than the other men suffering.

But on the other hand, it very much seems like Little has already given himself that punishment. It's like he's punishing himself with every single moment in this place. With every word he voices about himself.

Do those things even each other out? It's not like Billy knows. He may judge, but he's no executioner. He's never been.

Not to mention that the other - thankfully - is already saying something else, freeing him entirely from having to say something to the earlier statement. It also brings Billy back to reality a little more, to the situation they're in. The scent of smoke in the air reminds him more of the thing he's looking for in the middle of this - safety, or at least Hickey - and reminds him he can't linger here.

His gaze briefly moves to the burnt corpse on the ground, then over to Little. Billy doesn't think anyone will blame him for what happened here regardless, not with the wanton violence everywhere, so the other's offer doesn't mean that much in this context. But if he's wrong about his assumption, it could be useful.

For a moment he stares at Little.

But he doesn't say anything. After that moment, he just turns away, running back into the darkness.