see who I am in the lion’s den

[fidior]

Who: Cornelius Hickey & Edward Little.
What: Following a concerning Missing Person announcement in the Community Hall, Little decides to check in on someone he fears may be connected.
When: Early October.
Where: Hickey's dwelling in Milton.

Content Warnings: Mentions of mutiny, torture, and cannibalism are likely to come up, potentially in introspection and/or dialogue.

Someone has gone missing.

There are certainly a variety of dangers in this place. The wolves, the wilds themselves.... and then the strangeness without explanation: the spasmodic flickers of ghosts, the hush of a Voice whispering reminders of all the worst parts of a person, coaxing them towards an ending. There are many factors that could be responsible for a person abruptly gone.

Little immediately thinks to one, and it's with a sickness deep within himself. In his time here, he's... learned from Goodsir, about the atrocities that Hickey had apparently committed in that camp. Of course, he had not seen any of it with his own eyes, and evidence is impossible to procure in this place. He has only the word of poor Mr. Goodsir himself — nothing that Little doubts, not from that man, but some part of him struggles still to accept these nightmarish truths.

All Little can do is hold to what he has known and been trained for, even amongst all that is so unfamiliar. It means keeping order. It means doing things fairly. And so he's oddly calm on the surface as he heads out towards the home Hickey's claimed as his here, though his gut aches with so many ghosts, regrets, and questions. (Should he have killed this man, back when he'd first bumped into him, in this place? He had Hickey at gunpoint. Is someone in Milton dead because of him?

If he had killed Solomon Tozer, could all of what followed been prevented?

It's an unfathomable horror to think that the crime of taking the life of one man may have saved the lives of so many others.)

The lieutenant steps up to the door and draws in a slow, steadying breath before he raises a fist and knocks against it, hard and firm, solid sounds. His shoulders are squared, posture assured, steady.

"Mr. Hickey," he calls, voice rich, deep and clear, meaning there to be no surprises with his appearance; he'll proclaim who he is right at once. Edward isn't here to cause turmoil, but to find truths and evidences. His shotgun is strapped to his back as usual, but he leaves it there out of his hands, not aimed like before.

Comments

[friendsfordinner]

Edward is there. Against him. Fist closed around his clothing. He's angry, he's distant, he's going to do something about this and Hickey is thrilled. To have pushed Little to this point, past any claims of decency or respectability or good English values he so desperately craves. Shows how useful you are now, yeah Lieutenant? Push a man far enough and he becomes just that. A man. Nothing more, on equal footing with the rest of them.

Hickey's eyes are shining with a bright mania as he looks up at Edward. There's only on question on his mind as he watches the lieutenant look down at him.

"And what'll you do if I don't?"

[fidior]

What will he do? To this man who has committed such horrors? Murdered and mutilated, lied, mutinied, consumed? This man who even now holds no remorse for any of it? In truth, Hickey frightens him. Little can't understand the mind of someone like this — a man who does not see other men with respect and human compassion. A man who could so easily take his blade to someone, who would turn his back on decency. A man who could become worse than an animal, who could do things that can hardly be imagined.

There is much anger inside of Edward Little, bottled up and swallowed down over so many years, anger and hurt and frustration. For a moment, his gloved hand tightens with tension against the smaller man's clothing, fingers curling inwards. What will he do? There are many things he would like to do.

His mouth parts, breathing ragged, and then he slowly lets go. No. He won't do anything to Hickey. Not now. Not like this. He shudders, looking deeply shaken, voice strained.

"I am going to continue searching these premises, and then I am going to take my leave."

[friendsfordinner]

What will he do.

The answer, to nobody's surprise, is fucking nothing. Because that's the sort of man Edward Little is. A man who can't take initiative on his own. A man who looks for others to make decisions. A man who fails. He looks annoyingly smug as Little lets go. Because of course he would. Rest of the Terror crew would be pleased if Little throttled Hickey then and there. But that would involve making a tough choice, and God forbid Little do that.

"Yeah, that makes sense." There's a smirk on Hickey's face as he points out, "Can't avoid me forever, though."

A good place to wrap, unless you'd like to tack on anything else after!!!

[fidior]

Little has always believed that there are times where it requires more strength to not act. And perhaps, in his particular position, that most times it is the case. A good lieutenant should wait, trust the rules of sensibility, place his faith in the process of how things should be done. He should not allow emotion or personal upset to colour his experience.

(But what does one do in the face of a murderer? Of a man who has... killed his friends, his brothers, his men? Stolen his captain? Had men butchered and eaten like cattle? What does a good lieutenant do when someone like this has completely shattered all that is normal?)

He does want to hurt Cornelius Hickey. He wants him to pay for what he's done. But he can't exert that justice himself. It... it wouldn't be right. It would only cause further harm. (Right?)

...For now, he steps back, though his fists are still clenched and his eyes are dark, pupils swollen, angry. His breathing is so tight it hurts. 'Can't avoid me forever.' It feels like something looming, a dark cloud. What else will Edward Little be unable to avoid forever?

He turns and walks away, hating the man behind him, and hating himself perhaps even more. And he'll spend some time searching the home, but will be unsurprised when he finds nothing. No evidence of a young man's kidnapping and slaughter. Nothing. All that's left to do is leave, stomach a tangle of knots.