this empty northern hemisphere

[singmod]

NOVEMBER 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — STRANGERS: The Darkwalker returns to directly target Interlopers by stripping away the very things that make them who they are.

PROMPT TWO — NO EXIT: Interlopers find themselves trapped within the bowels of the earth, with no way out, except one.

PROMPT THREE — LAST SUNSET OF THE YEAR: As the long night draws in, Interlopers find a way to bring about some festive cheer to chase off the chill and darkness.

STRANGERS

WHEN: The month of November
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation; memory loss; loss of self/identity; potential identity crisis; potential personality changes; possible themes of depression; possible themes of suicide.

”They failed.”

For some, they have heard this voice before many times. For others they have only heard the voice upon their arrival into this place. An old voice, deep and dark and ancient. Something impossible, older than the earth itself. The one that floats into your ears and nestles there, sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine. Even to the most stoic and unshakeable souls, it is an unnerving voice. It feels wrong. It feels like an ending. It is the very same voice that spoke to you, right from the start. The words all Interlopers share with one another: You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.

They failed, and you realise just who ‘they’ are — the Forest Talkers. Mallory slumped in a cabin, slowly bleeding out.

”Interloper.”.

The voice that wants you gone. The one that wants to get rid of you. The Darkwalker.

”Inconsequential. They have gone into the Dark. As will you. As will all.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before it continues.

“What are you truly, Interloper?” it asks you. ”Or rather…. who are you? Take it away, and what are you left with?”

You feel your hands shake, you can’t seem to breathe. What does it mean?

”Perhaps nothing worth keeping, perhaps then you will finally see. Maybe you will finally understand your place. And perhaps then you will go into the Dark.”


You remember those words, and they linger within your mind in the days that follow.

It happens slowly, like the sea erodes the cliff face. The pieces come away, everything within you is slowly undone. Not an instant, but an insidious thing. You begin to forget things, about yourself, about the others around you.

You know you have loved ones, here in the Northern Territories, or even the ones waiting for you back home, but you cannot recognise their faces. You cannot recall the colour of a daughter’s hair, or the dimpled smile of a brother. You do not remember your father’s eyes, or your mother’s laugh. You cannot recall their names, their voices.

You do not remember those around you here in this world. You look upon a friend and see a stranger. You cannot recall the trials you have gone through together and come out the other side from. You cannot remember every shared moment, every small and brief moment of joy or compassion or hope. A hug, a hand held, a joke, a kind word, an apology.

Or perhaps you cannot remember any good thing you ever did. You cannot recall any act of kindness or goodness you brought into the world. You cannot recall your good deeds. Everything falls away from you, and you are left wondering who you are, what kind of person you are. Are you a good person? Or a bad person? Perhaps you’re a terrible person, after all. One who should not be here. Why should someone who has done nothing good with their life be here in this place?

Perhaps the Darkwalker is right. Take it all away, and who are you? What is left of you? Who are you if you cannot remember any goodness of you? If you cannot remember the connections you have made in this place? If you cannot remember the love of those back home?

Is it anything worth keeping? Is it anything that’s worth staying?

For some, it may be too much. Despair and disconnection are heavy things, and it may be too much. Perhaps they are nothing worth keeping, in the end. It may be enough to seek an end to themselves. Maybe it would be best to slip quietly into the Long Dark, after all.

It is a terrible trick, but it is one that can be broken. The Darkwalker’s hold has been broken before, and perhaps it can be broken again. Even if you do not remember yourself, the ones around you do. Leaning on those you are close to and talking with slowly pull the pieces of yourself back to you. The Darkwalker has power, but the testament of Interlopers is their persistence in this world, and that has power, too. Given enough time, and patience, and care — those around you may finally make you whole once more.

NO EXIT

WHEN: The month of November
WHERE: Everywhere...?
CONTENT WARNINGS: forced honesty; claustrophobic situations; nyctophobic/scotophobic situations; themes of peril; caves/possible cave-ins; themes of starvation/dehydration; themes of imprisonment

It starts with strange happenings at night, things left to be found by the next morning. Those within Lakeside many find themselves unsurprised You don’t remember falling asleep. You’re sure you were wide awake only seconds before, but when you open your eyes, confused and groggy, you are met with a strange kind of darkness. The kind that seems thick and endless, and you stare into it, trying to get your eyes to adjust but nothing seems to shift in your vision.

The air is stale, and there’s a scent of old, damp stone that clings to it. As you move around, trying to get your bearings, the room echoes oddly and it doesn’t take long to realise that you’re in some kind of cave atrium. And soon enough, someone else is waking up — you’re not alone in this place.

Moving around is difficult, and it’s best to use your body to try to navigate yourself. Testing the way out carefully with hands and feet. Maybe you have something on your by chance to help you light your way — a lighter, a pocket flashlight, matches. However, which way you try to feel out the atrium, you both soon come to the same conclusion: no matter how hard you try, there is no exit. No tunnel or passage out from the atrium, nothing.

You are both entirely trapped within this one space.

For a while, you sit in the atrium. Maybe you sit in silence, maybe you speak over what looks to be the inevitable: you’re doomed to die here, whether you suffocate or die of dehydration or starvation. You and your companion — familiar or strangers —

Out of nowhere, comes a scraping against the stone. You turn to find that on one of the walls, there is light — a ghost writing on the wall, carving into the stone to reveal letters that will glow dimly:

THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE

For some, this feels eerily familiar. Those who have been in the Northern Territories have dealt with something similar: a game of truths, a game of deadly consequences. There is no Jackal-headed being, no chains, no blood. This time, there is the truth or there is waiting to die. For others who aren’t familiar, it may take some working out. Maybe it’s best to talk, after all.

Opting for silence will find that nothing will change in the cave’s atrium. You will be left, waiting to die in the half-gloom. Strangely, speaking any lies will find that the cave will rumble ominously, and with enough — rock will begin fall down from above, almost as the place is slowly caving in. As if the stone itself knows if your words are truthful or not.

But as the words say, the truth will set you free. If you say enough, speak your truth, you will find yourselves noting a shift on the air — a crisp, freshness that drifts in from one direction. Heading through that way will bring you to a tunnel that had not been there before, and with it — you will find your exit, out into the wilds of Milton’s region.

LAST SUNSET OF THE YEAR

WHEN: Preparations throughout November; November 26th.
WHERE: Milton Community Hall
CONTENT WARNINGS: drinking/alcohol; mentions of survival situations relating to AMC's The Terror.

As November begins to draw to a close, the daylight hours grow shorter and shorter. From the start of the month, there is less than seven hours of daylight and that number becomes smaller and smaller as the month goes on. The world is darker and colder, and the long night draws nearer — when the sun will not rise, and the Northern Territories exist in total darkness, save for the spare hours of twilight.

For some, it is not the first time they’ve experienced the darkness of winter. For a select few, they have known the darkness only too well — the bitterness, the hopelessness, the hunger for the dawn. But even in the dark, there are sparks of light — the crackles of fires to fight off the night and cold, or in a more figurative sense… the spark of an idea, another way to fight off the night and cold.

As the day shrinks, the idea grows. There is little to be cheerful of in the Northern Territories. Interlopers are tormented endlessly in this place: supernatural beings, harsh weather, precarious food situations, nightmares, the Forest Talkers and whatever mysteries lie within the Aurora. Survival is a persistence, but people are exhausted. Francis Crozier, former Captain of HMS Terror knows this more than anyone. A veteran, and a survivor of an ill-fated expedition— he has seen what becomes of those with low morale, when the darkness seems so thick and endless. He has seen many horrors.

This time, though, it can be different. This is not his world. These are not starving and maddened men, women and children. It is not Carnivale.

Over the month of November, plans are made and slowly bear fruit. Help is wrangled from Interlopers where they can — food preparation, decorations, musicians. Interlopers are encouraged to add their personal touches, country, culture, customs, to all that they plan. The only thing that’s insisted upon is light, so much light: lanterns, candles, torches, mirrors, sculptures made of ice that catch the glimmer of the nearby fires. The evening will glow.

There isn’t so much a ‘dress code’, per say. But Interlopers are encouraged to dress up for the occasion. Maybe hunting around in the homes of former Milton residents may prove lucky — with some rather dated formal-wear that has remained forgotten in the back of closets. It’s vintage, is all.

On November 26th, there is less than an hour of daylight. The crowds gather to watch the sun set after it has barely risen before the festivities begin.

The food is simple and hearty, much like what can be found at Methuselah’s feasts. While pine wine has been brought along, hot tea is also available—both can keep the chill away. Crozier digs into his stores to share all, a promise to every person as they descend into darkness: no Interloper will go hungry this winter.

There’s dancing, of course, an area cleared and illuminated with torches. There’s an insistence on a party thrown in open air, no canvas to obscure the stars, though inside the Community Hall the warmth calls to those needing a break from the chill.

It is important to remember that the last sunset of the year is not the reminder of the darkness ahead, but the promise of the first sunrise of the next.

FAQs

STRANGERS


1. While the Darkwalker Ward Talismans anointed with Interloper blood (first created by Heartman earlier in the year) will help ward off the worst of the Darkwalker's influence, Interlopers will still find themselves vulnerable to this kind of influence — particularly if their spirits are low, or if they've found themself questioning themselves or their relationships around them as of late. Interlopers who do not have Talismans (this is a handwaved thing) will fall victim very easily to the Darkwalker's influence.

2. There are three ways players can play with this plot: they can go with a loss of self, the loss of game-cr or the loss of canon relationships/canon story. Players can go with whatever way they see fit. They can also go with the nuclear option of all three, or a mix of the three.

NO EXIT

1. The truths need to be meaningful in some way in order to secure freedom. 'Small truths' will not be enough.

2. Either both or one of the characters can speak their truth in order to free themselves from the cave.

LAST SUNSET OF THE YEAR

1. A big thank you to Gels for reaching out and helping with this prompt!

2. Characters will be able to find 'formal wear' of a sort within Milton. Bear in mind that a great deal of the fashion within Milton is dated, with a lot of the clothing being decades old that the original residents of Milton would have carefully kept safe. For a rough idea, nothing would be from anything later than the late-00's.

3. Players are free to write out any preparation threads as well as party threads! This could be outfit hunting; resource gathering for food, etc.; or making decorations for the Community Hall.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

James Fitzjames | The Terror

[gildedlife]

[[ooc: Open prompts below! Plotting comment is here, or message on plurk at amiasha, discord @ amiasha, or PM!]]

No Exit [OTA]

[gildedlife]

It's fortunate that he ended up with someone he already knew the first time this happened, and was able to at least vaguely figure out how to get out. So when he finds himself waking in the cavern again there's no panic, but that certainly doesn't mean he's pleased, and his lack of patience comes across in his tone as he calls out into the darkness--

"Is anyone there?"

[friendsfordinner]

"Fucking hell," James can hear someone loudly grumble. Surprise! You're stuck in a cave with Hickey! Who's not terribly pleased at this whole situation, even before the 'stuck in a cave with James Fitzjames' of it all. He's tense, like a small animal in a trap, and aggravated, like the whole universe is conspiring against him.

Because, as this is also not his first time in the cave, Hickey knows what's going to happen. Why wouldn't he? He's the one who'll get them out of there, revealing some truth about himself that Fitzjames will then use to poke and needle at him for the rest of their existence. Because of course that's what's going to happen. He's the only one willing to get things done around here. He's the only one willing to make the tough choices.

"Right. We might as well start this off by you telling me what you know already. No use revealing some deep-seated truth if Crozier already mentioned it, yeah?"

Because of course that's what that meeting of everybody except Hickey was. It can't be anything else in Hickey's mind: it was simply Crozier gathering the rest of the crew to slander Hickey.

[gildedlife]

James has a similar reaction upon hearing Hickey's voice, his general dismay at the situation first earning a new layer of irritation before the feeling shifts more toward dread. He does not want to be telling secrets to anyone, let alone someone like Hickey, who can and will likely use it to his advantage in some way. In fact, this is just about worst case scenario, and it's little comfort that Hickey clearly isn't happy about this either.

He also clearly knows what's going on, so at least they can skip that part and get to the point before the words even appear. In theory, anyway.

"What do you believe he might've told us?" James isn't really even sure what Hickey's getting at--the whole story during the meeting had been endlessly depressing but not particularly focused on Hickey--but even if he were, he has no intention of making this easy.

[friendsfordinner]

"All the things I would have initially gone with in this situation," Hickey points out, with a shrug. "Putting Billy out of his misery. The cannibalism. Goodsir."

Because of course Crozier must have told Fitzjames that. Fitzjames missed the worst of it, the worst of the mutiny. Oh, he probably talked around bits of it: the Goodsir of it all, for example. But what happened to Billy would certainly have been mentioned. Hickey suspects that the lieutenants still hold delusions of removing Billy from his devious influence (as if Billy wasn't the first one to make some of the more devious suggestions). It wouldn't surprise him if Crozier did as well.

"Course, if you don't know anything about that, I will happily elaborate further. We both know it's going to be me who gets us out of this anyway."

Because Hickey's the only person on the goddamn expedition who believes in getting things done.

[gildedlife]

Ah. Yes, he's heard all of this, but like much of... Pretty much everything else, there's been a level of compartmentalizing and repression that James has adopted as a part of his own attempts to survive. He can't linger too much on the horror or it will become all-encompassing, and there's no useful, acceptable way to channel it into anything else; anger is the only other real emotion that comes to him about any of this, and it does so in particular at the mention of Goodsir. What he'd been driven to think he had to do, all because Hickey had wanted the crew's only remaining doctor.

He's about to comment on that particular fact, though without details--although Hickey's surely aware of Goodsir's actions, whether because he's from a time far enough to have experienced them or because Billy likely relayed the information--when Hickey continues, and that gives him an even better way to respond. Mocking disdain always feels a little better to him than a true loss of his temper, and considering the situation he's entirely willing to allow himself that much.

"Save your self-pity, Mr. Hickey. As I understand it you accomplished very little other than a host of murders, only to then die as a direct result of your own hubris, and neither course of action will be of benefit in this situation."

The words claiming that the truth will set them free begin to glow on a wall nearby, an almost humorous backdrop to the absolute lack of cooperation going on so far.

[thesamurai]

A-fucking-gain?

At least she knows this time, somewhat understands what's happening, but that doesn't make it better. Instead of moving, this time she waits with her jaw clenched until she hears something, then calls back out to the unfamiliar voice.

"I'm here. For the second time. You?"

Slowly, she starts making her way to the other person, hopefully not in the direction of an echo.

[gildedlife]

Unlike the first two times, the voice is both unfamiliar and that of a woman, two things that certainly change the dynamic of the situation a bit. At least she's already done this once herself, though, and so they're spared the confusion portion of things.

"The third. Seems this cave is far too interested in my life." James says it dryly, almost a joke, helped by the absurdity of the situation making it sound slightly more humorous even if it's truly anything but.

He can hear her moving, possibly in his direction--it's difficult to tell for sure with the acoustics of the cavern--and so he speaks up again as a guide. "I don't believe we've met."

Might as well trade pleasantries before they're forced to share deep secrets to a stranger.

[thesamurai]

"Guess it must think you have some shit to get out."

Michonne racked her brain last time, and she does it again now, for anything she's held back because she wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe she's only there to listen, else her and her new cave partner are meant to be there until she thinks of something.

She continues on her path, fingertips against the wall as she moves toward the sound of his voice, figuring there's no reason to keep her distance.

"Don't think so. Michonne. Still trying to get used to this mind-game bullshit." Meaning she's relatively new, although the 'new' part almost isn't true anymore.

Last Sunset [OTA]

[gildedlife]

[i]

James is on a mission.

Now that he's starting to finally feel a little better, he's both more able to do things, and he's also more willing to indulge in doing things that aren't strictly necessary. Such as looking for fancy clothes for Francis' party.

And so James has gone exploring, well aware that anything good has probably already been scavenged, but nice clothes are also not usually practical clothes. So perhaps even if a particular abandoned house has been searched already, the sort of thing he's looking for might've been left behind.

It's difficult to tell which places are abandoned and which are not, and so he James just tries doorknobs to see what happens. If they open he steps cautiously inside, looking for any signs of recent habitation, but does he do something smart like announcing his presence? Of course not. With any luck, whoever might or might not be living there won't be too terribly on edge.

[ii]

The pine wine is awful, and not just because it's inherently terrible or because James typically prefers alcohol on the sweet side, but there's something about the astringent taste of it that brushes too close to a memory he doesn't want to dwell on. The smell of it alone comes very close to putting him off even trying the stuff and just staying sober, but if he's going to be attending this party, there will be bad memories to contend with all around. Might as well be a little tipsy.

Of course, downing a bunch of alcohol quickly enough to avoid tasting it is not the best way to achieve this particular goal, especially not when he hasn't drank for awhile and has no idea how strong the wine is. So by the time the alcohol kicks in, he very quickly passes tipsy and goes straight on to slightly drunk. This isn't a terrible thing, as it means the pain that has been ever-present for months now fades to entirely manageable background noise, and with it, his mood lightens quite a bit.

So anyone who he has even passing acquaintance with might be asked if they'd like to dance, and his crewmates get less of a request and more just immediately guided out onto the floor. Not being able to dance is no excuse for either of these categories of people, either; he can and will just offer to teach a simple ballroom waltz to those who need direction.

ii.

[clothed]

Sansa would not be so comfortable around a collection of men deep in their cups or melancholy, or both, if she had been alone. But with her gifts and Lady by her side, and Jon nearby with Ghost, Sansa feels more comfortable mingling among the attendees of the party. There is music, and there is dancing — the steps are easy enough to learn, and she finds herself following along with practiced grace.

Finding a partner takes a little more work, as she realises quickly how few of the men can actually... well, dance.

It is with some great relief that Sansa finds a suitable partner, though he is of an age Jon might not entirely agree with. The man with Uncle Edmure's face - the naval captain, if she remembers his title correctly. Sansa gladly accepts the request to dance, and falls right into step with him like she's been dancing the waltz all her life. In a way, she has — she's been thought a lady since she was three, and this is hardly a challenging dance to follow.

"May I share a secret, ser?" Sansa stage-whispers. "Promise you won't laugh."

[gildedlife]

James is similarly pleased to finally end up with a dance partner that actually knows the steps, or at least can follow them easily enough; he certainly doesn't mind teaching, especially at such an informal party where the point is to enjoy oneself, but it's still nice to just dance.

It's also good to see Lyanna again, and that she seems at least relatively well despite everything that's happened since they first met. Judging by the stage-whisper whatever she's about to say is likely not too serious, so he assures her with a tone of exaggerated--but ultimately genuine--sincerity. "I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."

i

[meadqueen]

The house that he's entered is abandoned, but not vacant. Randvi had had the same idea, searching the homes for formal clothing. She usually wears what she had arrived in because it's warm and easy to wear, but some part of her wants to assert her individuality at this event.

She jumps at the sound of someone else in the house, dropping the shoes she was inspecting to the floor.

“Hello?”

[gildedlife]

James, in turn, also jumps at the sound of the shoes hitting the ground, making for a somewhat comical moment. But he recognizes her voice, and so quickly relaxes again as he responds.

"My apologies; I didn't expect anyone to be here." He turns the corner of the hallway to come into actual view, just in case she doesn't place his voice right away.

[meadqueen]

Randvi does not recall the man’s name, if she had ever learned it, but does recognize him as one of the Saxons. Francis’s crew. She had spoken to him once of radios.

“I suppose we’ve had the same idea, searching these houses for more modern formal wear.”

Wildcardish!

[fissure]

"When I find the bloke who brewed this, I may just give them a kick," Prior states, abruptly finding himself in the shadow of the familiar Fitzjames. All around the party is playing out with people drinking and cajoling. Prior's only here for the food and alcohol, although he might be talked into something more dubious, nefarious, or both if the right notion strikes.

"What's that you're wearing?" He notes the change in Fitzjames and tries not to act surprised when he asks, "A smile?"

[gildedlife]

James assumes the first comment is about the alcohol that he already feels kicking in, almost enough so for him to have forgotten the taste of it, and certainly already putting him in a better mood. So at the questions he raises an eyebrow, but there is indeed a small, light smile on his face.

"Well, I am in my element, for once." A party, that is. A social gathering. And if he's drunk enough, and proclaims the words certainly enough, he might even believe that's still true.

[fissure]

Fitzjames is certainly selling his comfort level, which Prior can't deny is quite a bit sexier than the display he'd seen over tea. His expression changes and he admires the flush that's brightened his companion's cheeks; regardless of its cause, it fits Fitzjames.

"Then I've found myself in the right place," he says, leaning in to add, "for once."

Flushed himself, feeling warm under his heavy coat but refusing to relinquish it, he falls into line with the other man and observes the crowd.

"Some of these are yours, aren't they?" He notes a few of those crew mates mingling around, even lets his gaze linger on Crozier who purportedly made all of this possible. Without knowing Fitzjames well, he feels that tight line that's drawn between Fitzjames and his past. For Prior, he doesn't know if he'd like it more or less to have so many people around who echo his past.

ii

[load_aim_shoot]

Being asked to dance sees Raju raising his eyebrows, surprise on his face before amusement overtakes it. Not at a single one of the opulent English parties he's managed to get into before would he have seen a man asking another man to dance with him this way. At home, before everything like it had been a performance, of course every part of the dancing he'd done had been very different. But he hardly expects this to be like that, either; in fact none of this has been like anything he's used to. Raju hasn't even been trying to stand out, or catch anyone's attention. All his clothes are clean and neat -- this is Francis' idea after all, this party, Raju isn't going to look like he doesn't care about it -- but he hasn't dressed up at all. He'd focused more on dressing warm.

"I'd be happy to," Raju grins, eyeing Fitzjames. It seems like he's enjoying himself now, at least, for all his earlier concerns. "What kind? You'll be needing one of us to lead, won't you?"

[gildedlife]

James is not nearly as dressed up as he might've normally been when attending a party in better situations, but he's made an attempt, finding a relatively nice green brocade vest to wear over his shirtsleeves but still under his greatcoat. His hair is somewhat unsalvageable, though he's in denial over that fact, so he's made a valiant effort to tame it but there's only so much success that he could've possibly been capable of.

But he's drunk enough not to be self-conscious about it, delighted that Raju's going along with this. "Do you know any ballroom dances?" This will determine the issue of leading, which James has various potential solutions for.

[load_aim_shoot]

"Any you care to name," he risks, pleased and confident, grin growing just a little like Fitzjames'd been challenging Raju to know something. He hadn't been, Raju knows; he'll be dancing with the man, not against him, and he'd seemed in bad health when they'd first met even if he hadn't been drinking now. But it's impossible to resist putting at least a little challenge back into his answer. The prospect of a dance with anyone after this long is too much fun not to.

"The faster the better," he adds, pushing it a little. But if Fitzjames isn't steady enough, Raju's sure he'll be able to steady or catch him. And he's sure he'll be able to figure out the steps, too, if Fitzjames names something Raju doesn't know. Or make something up until he does, if Raju's the one asked to lead. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it until the chance was here in front of him, the idea of dancing anything at all. Even if it does turn out to be something boring and slow.

Wildcard [OTA]

[gildedlife]

[[ooc: Plotted something that doesn't fit anywhere else? Have a different idea? Anything goes!]]

No Exit, james' first round

[load_aim_shoot]

He's groggy. Then he recognizes the hard, cold stone underneath him, the stale smell, the dark, the feeling of waking up without having been asleep. It's colder this time, but of course it is; last time he'd been outside when he'd been... taken, when he'd ended up here, and this time he wasn't. He's lucky, at least, that he's never quite shed the bad habit of keeping his shoes on indoors, not when it's always so cold inside too, but he doesn't feel lucky.

"Bloody—" He pushes himself to sit up, the hard breath he cuts himself off with shuddering with the cold. He's never shed the habit of wearing at least two layers inside, too, at least three in the winter, and he turns up the collars of two of his shirts, pulling them around his neck and tucking his hands between his arms and his chest.

"Who's here?" he calls out, brisk and irritated. "There's got to be someone. The gods here won't be happy until they've humiliated us in company."

[gildedlife]

When James finds himself waking up in the dark, confused and disoriented, the first thing he thinks is that he must have passed out. That would've been an alarming enough thing for just about anyone, but for someone who has only recently begun recovering from being literally deathly unwell, it's slightly terrifying.

But as he becomes a little more aware of himself--if not his surroundings, due to the darkness--he realizes he doesn't feel like he's dying, so perhaps it's not that serious, even if the whole 'being unable to see' thing is its own very worrying problem. And then there's a voice coming from the darkness, and not only that but a voice he recognizes, and James tries to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart as he sits up and calls out a response.

"Raju?" The other man sounds annoyed but not particularly distressed, which is also somewhat reassuring. Perhaps he knows what's going on, comments about gods aside.

[load_aim_shoot]

"Fitzjames." Raju sighs, thinking. It might have been better to hear secrets — or tell them himself — from someone he didn't know, but it could be worse. If it'd been someone who'd been there during that damned vote to forgive Hickey for eating a man and attacking Francis, the vote Francis himself has forgiven and no one but himself seems to take any issue with at all, and then he might have to talk about it.

"You're alright?" he tries; it's a little uncomfortable not being able to look over and just know. "When did it take you? What were you doing before?"