singillatim | this empty northern hemisphere

this empty northern hemisphere

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I..." He looks up again, away from Fitzjames and his own lack of control crackling between them. The darkness above them isn't comforting but it isn't anything else either so he looks up into it, feeling his heart beating hard.

He isn't supposed to put words to it. He doesn't think he can. But he has to now, and as with most things, there's a way. Maybe if he approaches it differently. Not straight on.

"I... would have. Once." His hand taps out a fast rhythm against his thigh. "Remembered to stop. I... I think. But I... can't afford to. If I go home. There are people depending on me. And here, Francis— If he were hurt or killed because I was afraid of... guilt, because I let myself stop, I'd never forgive myself. Some things have to be done."

His hand stills for a moment as he looks away from the dark above and into Fitzjames face. "It was too important, not to believe you. So I didn't." He looks at the base of the fire, then away toward the near wall of the cave, the tapping of his hand starting up again. " But I knew your name. I would have recognized it."

There are many things about this explanation that stand out to James. The first is that he does understand this, when put this way; if he truly, deeply believed--even with it only being a possibility, not a certainty--that someone was a threat to Francis, or Edward, or Goodsir, or any of the others, he would find it far easier to just shoot than he would if the threat was only to himself. That sense of responsibility, and at an even simpler level that protective instinct, is a very strong part of what makes James particularly good at dealing with dangerous threats, despite entirely lacking any natural inclination toward violence.

So he gets that. And he can understand from there how the scales might've tipped for Raju in a way they still might not have for James, who would've likely not convinced himself of an immediate danger in that particular situation, but then again who's to say? Ultimately, that does make sense, even if he might disagree with the choice.

But it also says something else about Raju, besides the protectiveness and how he assesses risks. It means that Francis, in particular, is incredibly important to him, enough so that he'd rather risk the guilt of killing someone possibly innocent--whether he's convinced himself they weren't or not--than allow anything to happen to him. And on one hand, this is a good thing; James is glad Francis has, and has had, someone that cares that much about him, especially after losing everyone else during the expedition.

On the other hand, he's a little surprised. Sure, he'd known Raju and Francis had to be close both by the fact that they live together and, more simply, how they'd acted around each other. That much was obvious, but there are people James likes and gets along with well enough to possibly live with--especially in a situation like this--without feeling that level of attachment to. So he has to shift, just a little, his understanding of their relationship, and the weight of it.

That is, however, something he won't ask about. If it were just Raju affected then might've, but it involves Francis too, and if Francis hadn't even told him he lived with someone; clearly, for whatever reason, this is something Francis doesn't want to talk too much about. So James will leave it alone, for now.

He nods, once, to show he understand and accepts this answer, though he's not sure if Raju will notice with his shifting gaze and nervous movements. James gets the latter well enough, as he often does something similar.

"You didn't just know my name, you called me 'captain.'" James says it lightly, something of a peace offering, showing he's willing to move on from this topic to something more frivolous. They're still not out of this stupid cave, but it's going to be his turn to talk next, and if giving Raju time to calm down a little also means James gets to stall, then all the better. "I knew right away you and one of the others must've spoken about me, since I gave you neither name nor the title." Though 'captain' isn't really even his rank anyway, but that's not really important to point out at the moment.

It's being let off a hook, the question, and Raju feels a little tension starting to flow back out of him with it. He takes one slow breath, then another, trying to get used to the feeling of release where he'd been braced for the hook to dig in deeper. Is Fitzjames being kind? Should he have kept pushing instead, to make sure they get out of this damn cave?

The relief is too strong for reason; Raju can't tell.

He nods, swallowing. "Francis," he confirms. He tries to focus on what's hopefully going to be a harmless question first, trusting that he's going to be able to think more clearly in a moment, once this particular danger feels like it's passed. "I haven't spoken as much with the others. William and Little a bit. Jopson, now. I didn't realise how close you were until you arrived here, he told me more then."

He looks over at Fitzjames again, feeling... maybe a little better. Still tense, not calm, or the flames would be gone instead of just a little bit lower than they were. But better. "You mind it? Should I be calling you something else?"

It's difficult to be totally sure since he doesn't know Raju well, but it seems he's calming a little, which is good. Although James is entirely willing to press when he wants to know something or otherwise thinks it's worth it, he doesn't actually like to upset people, and he certainly doesn't want to do so to someone who both means a lot to someone James cares about and can set things on fire when he's emotional.

It's interesting that, of all people, Raju mentioned Billy first; of course he'd mentioned him earlier about the fire power, but James had figured he'd found that out in passing or when someone else serious had happened here. But it seems like he might be one of the expedition members Raju had spoken to most, which is very interesting. But he doesn't touch on that either, focusing on the lighter topic for now.

"I don't mind. It's simply..." He considers the easiest way to explain for a moment. "'Captain' isn't truly my rank, but the title is also used for Commanders when in command of a ship; as I have no ship here, calling me captain is neither warranted nor necessary." It isn't something he minds at all, and in fact it's kind of nice that the men have continued addressing him that way, as they're well aware they don't have to and so it's likely either out of habit or as a purposeful sign of respect.

But if Raju doesn't know that and is just going with what Francis called him, then the respect isn't earned. And although James is entirely willing to let people believe things that make him look better or more impressive than he is, he does so for a distinct reason that doesn't apply here, and so it feels a little like taking advantage of Raju attempting to be polite.

Raju nods, turning away and pacing again. It's something to do with the tension. It's easier to move more slowly now, at least. "Fitzjames, then?"

His path as he says it takes him close enough to the flames to feel the warmth of them on his face; not enough, but he could count the times he's been warm enough in this place on one hand. Warmer, at least, and it prompts him to look down at the coat he's been leant, quickly undoing the buttons.

"Take this for a while, will you?" he adds, hesitating for a moment before walking to the end of the fire and stepping far enough past it to slide the coat off himself and hold it out. The cold rushes back the moment he does it, of course, but— "You might not feel it, but I don't want to tell Francis you caught frostbite or something just because I forgot my coat."

"That's fine, yes." James hardly cares which of his names is used, not really attached to either of them, for reasons related to what he knows he needs to get to saying. It's only more evident that he should do so when Raju returns the coat, and although James hesitates he doesn't argue and begins to pull it on, very careful not to catch it in the fire.

He is, of course, still cold, but the coat is undeniably warmer and the weight of it is also reassuring to have once again. He begins to do up some of the buttons, and that gives him something to focus on so he doesn't overthink what he's about to say.

"As nothing else has worked so far in convincing this cavern to release us, I believe I know what it might want to hear from me."

Maybe he wouldn't if he didn't know — and fairly well, just now — the kind of feeling Fitzjames is volunteering for, but he does know, and so Raju recognizes the bravery it takes to say it. And say it so matter of factly, as if he isn't effected at all. Raju studies him, opening his mouth—

—and doesn't volunteer to try and dig deeper inside himself, instead, so that Fitzjames doesn't have to. Before he'd come to this place, a part of him had still thought of himself as the kind of man who would. Does that make Fitzjames a stronger man than Raju, who'd only dug one of his private pains out into the surface of himself when asked?

Raju closes his mouth again. Being bested, face to face with his own weakness; he never wants to see the inside of this damned cave again.

He wraps his arms around his chest and hunches near the fire, burning just a little larger now. He watches Fitzjames grimly. It isn't going to be easy, but he pushes the urge to warn Fitzjames away. It doesn't matter if it's easy.

"I can promise not to speak on it once we leave," he says, in lieu of all the things he isn't saying instead. "Like I never knew."

Courage might be something of a factor in finally getting to the topic, but hardly one that James would feel he could claim much of at the moment. It had been bravery when he'd told Francis of his own free will, being honest by choice and trusting that whatever Francis said in response, it would be what he needed to hear.

This is more simple pragmatism, with nothing else having worked so far. James is unwilling to let either of them freeze, or perhaps worse, die of starvation or dehydration. He's firmly refused to even consider the possibility of other things that could happen, such as the air running out, but just because he won't consciously acknowledge them doesn't mean a part of him isn't aware.

So he's doing this because it needs done. The promise not to share the information isn't something he expects but at the same time it isn't a surprise, and he appreciates it for what it is; even if he wishes he didn't have to be doing this at all, and he'd have to no matter whether or not he thought Raju might tell others, it is at least something of a reassurance that he cares enough to not only not do so, but be sure James knows that.

So, in return--

"Francis already knows. It hardly matters if you mention it to him." Not that he expects this to be something Raju desperately needs to be talking about, but the experience of being stuck in this awful cave might be, and having to dance around the topic of this secret might be difficult. No need to make it more so, especially if he's already promising to do James the favor of not telling anyone else.

How is he even going to put this?

He remembers, of course, how he'd told Francis. But they had so much history at that point, even though they'd only been getting along for a few months, and James' motivation had also been very different; the emotional, open way he'd confided in Francis is not something he can or will do in this situation. So just the facts, closed off as much as he can, both to get the words out and to protect some level of dignity as he does so.

"I'm not fully English." It had been the last part of what he told Francis, but here, it seems easiest to start with. Simplest, something that will lead naturally to the next point, so he can recite them off while staring into the fire, ignoring that the light still stings in his bad eye despite all this time. "My father had an affair, while he was stationed in Brazil; my mother is likely Portuguese. I've never met either of them, as it seems neither wanted a reminder of their transgression."

And why would they? A child out of wedlock was shameful, both for the parents and the child, even when both were from the same country. An illegitimate half English, half Portuguese child born in Brazil would have been an absolute disaster for one's reputation, and James is well aware how fortunate he is to have been taken in by distant relatives, instead of ended up in any of the other places he could've been left.

Francis knows; Raju nods. Francis would have listened if Raju'd told him he couldn't give any details, but knowing it does make things easier. Fitzjames goes on from there and Raju listens grimly, frowning a little while Fitzjames keeps looking into the fire, probably so he doesn't have to see anyone listening to him. It's a hard start to a life: out of place, coming from nowhere. Regardless of everything else that had... Well, Raju had always known where and who he'd come from, that they wanted him, what they'd wanted— needed him to do. Raju had never questioned what was his. What'd happened later had happened later, and when it had, he'd at least had that fertile soil to grow out from.

"From there to a commander in the navy," he murmurs. "You've come far."

Even as he's finishing saying it he feels cool air on the side of his face; he turns toward it, and tension he'd been determinedly ignoring flows out of him. He straightens with a sharp, relieved breath, watching the passage he can see in the glow of the damned words and the flickering light of the fire. It hadn't been there a moment ago.

His gaze darts to Fitzjames again. "Thank you," he says quietly, then starts toward the way out.

The words are clearly meant nicely, and it's kind of Raju to make the attempt, but James disregards it immediately; maybe he could take pride in having come far if he'd done so while being open about his origins, but he hadn't. He'd hid behind his adoptive father's money and connections, left out information in some places and outright lied in others, paid a well-timed bribe, and took every opportunity for glory that he could then show off to his superiors in an attempt to gain favor. And it had all worked, earning him a promotion to Commander and a position on the expedition he'd wanted to be a part of so badly, which he'd never return from. Some accomplishment.

But at the very least he'd succeeded here, in this awful cavern, and there's some sense of satisfaction in that much. At least they can both get out of this place, and James make an attempt to pretend this never happened.

He nods at Raju's thanks, and follows him out.
*********

It's awhile later, after the announcement of the party and James' scouring of abandoned houses in search of something to wear, that he finds himself at Francis and Raju's place. The visit is manifold, from seeing if he could take the pair up on the offer they'd made during his first visit regarding spare food--his appetite still comes and goes erratically, but now that's he's truly beginning to heal it's begun returning more and more--to intending to discuss the upcoming event to just checking up on both of them.

So, after a brief hesitation at the door--a little late to be second-guessing, as he's already made the trek out there--he finally knocks.

There's no bow and arrow greeting the commander this time; Raju'd looked out the window before coming to the door. He smiles as he opens it. "Fitzjames," he says, stepping back so Fitzjames can come inside. "Francis isn't in, but you're welcome to wait for him. Would you like some tea?"

James of course expected there could be no one home or, as is the case this time, just Raju. Still, he feels a little awkward about this particular situation considering... Everything, but he's also determined not to let that show too much, and nods politely as he steps in.

"Yes, thank you." He shifts the small bag he's carrying of the things he'd found while scavenging, which he intended to show Francis whether he liked it or not--preferably not, actually, as it'd probably be a lot more entertaining for everyone involved--as well as a few general supplies to have on hand while venturing out. Although part of him thinks he should just confidently put the bag somewhere, the rest of him remembers both not to be rude and that most of his usual act is kind of pointless by now. So, instead--

"Is there somewhere I can put this?"

"Mm, anywhere." Raju gestures broadly toward nothing in particular, focusing more on going to get the pine needles and the spare mug than on where Fitzjames puts his bag. "I know it looks too clean for mess, but I don't mind where you put anything. I've just been straightening. It's been... a strange few weeks, I haven't been keeping the place like I should. And we've been talking about moving to a different cabin, so I've been packing a little."

He looks around as he walks back toward the fire. All the rocks and plants Francis used to bring home for him, there's less of them scattered around than there was when Fitzjames was last here. After forgetting Francis, their life together, the little parts of it he'd treasured enough to keep before, he'd wanted to make sure none of it got lost if they do go. It does look a little neater without so many of them sitting out, even if he doesn't like it.

"You're warm enough? Put more wood in from there if you'd like, it'll help the water boil faster."

A strange few weeks is right, though it seems like there's a bit more of a story here than just the cave thing if it's prompted not just organizing but discussion of moving. James sets his bag near the door and moves toward the fire, adding to it as suggested, and certainly can't help but ask--

"You're considering relocating?"

"Mhm. I'll show you where once we do it, if Francis doesn't. Just... don't tell anyone else, will you? I'd like to keep Hickey from knowing where Francis lives as long as possible." He grimaces at the thought as he drops the pine needles into the pot.

"He'll find out eventually, of course." Raju heaves a sigh. "Comes of being able to... Well. You were here when he found out, weren't you?"

Ah. Right.

"I was, yes." He doesn't quite make a face, though he does scrunch his nose a little in an automatic expression of disgust at the memory. That whole thing had been quickly compartmentalized--he has enough to worry about without thinking about petting a wolf that turned out to be Hickey, of all people--but he certainly remembers how upset Francis had been about the whole thing.

James just isn't quite sure this is the way to be handling the situation. "If he'll find out eventually, and you're aware of what he's capable of, is there truly reason to relocate? It seems it wouldn't accomplish anything other than causing yourselves an inconvenience."

"He went rolling on- Francis' bed, you know." Our, luckily, doesn't quite trip in its hurry to get off his tongue out of the way for Francis' to take its place. It's an odd moment, but not one Raju has the time to dwell on; he's too busy making the kind of point that Fitzjames can be expected to understand. "Licked his face. Francis would feed him fish, right out of his hand."

He grimaces again, looking down into the pot, then stands with a sigh and perches on the edge of one of the armchairs, leaning forward over his knees and rubbing at his hands. "Usually in this house. Even if he worms his way into the other one, it won't be because we welcomed him in. It makes a difference. Or it did to Francis, anyway, when we talked about it... before. A while ago, now. But I'd be surprised if his feelings had softened at all."

Pragmatically it might not make much sense, but emotionally it does, and James can certainly understand it when put this way. He's a little concerned about the idea of trying to move during the dead of winter, so close to the weeks of polar night, but surely they're going to be careful about this and so James won't argue.

"One would think that Mr. Hickey wouldn't test his luck so thoroughly, particularly so when he has the opportunity to avoid attention almost entirely." And considering he claims to be simply focused on practicality and survival, purposefully doing something so needlessly inflammatory sounds counterintuitive. Of course, James doesn't really believe Hickey's claims when it comes to his motivations anyway, but complaining about Hickey is always a little cathartic, especially after his own recent ordeal.

"Only if one thought Mr. Hickey was a normal man," Raju says, wry. "Francis told me Hickey's opinion of him was... odd. I don't remember the way he said it, but I remember I didn't understand. I still don't. How did he seem, once he was caught out? Smug at all? Sneaking in to make a point is the only way it makes sense, isn't it, but you'd think he would... I don't know, lead Francis some place and take him by surprise, not just. Live like a dog."

"He seemed pleased with himself, but that is his usual state of being." So honestly not much could be gleaned from Hickey's shameless reaction to being caught. Although--

"But he did chose to leave quietly, as I don't believe he intended to be found out; it was Mr. Gibson who gave him away." Some strife in that relationship, perhaps? James can only hope so; he doesn't actually know either Hickey or Billy very well, though he certainly likes the latter more than the former, and perhaps he's less of a lost cause provided he could get away from the terrible influence of his husband.

But as for Raju's question about why Hickey might not have set a trap, James messes with readjusting his scarf to give himself something to do with his hands as he answers. "Mr. Hickey may be aware of how little patience the rest of us, including yourself, have for his behavior. Sneaking around as a wolf might be infuriating, but it likely wouldn't provoke anyone to take action against him; causing any sort of harm to Francis, particularly after having done so once already, would be the end of him."

Raju snorts, derisive. "You're sure about that?" Though the water was already hot, he only put the pine needles into it a moment ago and it's far too soon to check on it; he goes to the little poetry books sitting near the fire instead, crouching to straighten a fallen pile. "That one time was enough to make this town's position on protecting anyone very clear. It's those broken ribs you're talking about, isn't it? Has anyone told you about the 'trial' after?"

James watches, about to answer that yes, he's very sure because he'll do it himself, but realizes that perhaps he hadn't made himself clear. He certainly hadn't meant the rest of the Interlopers, just those of the Expedition plus Raju, but what Raju says very much has his interest.

"No. What happened?"

Raju settles on the floor so he can rifle through his notebooks. If it changes Fitzjames outlook on the town at all — it'd certainly changed Raju's — then it's important make sure he's getting it right. "That month was... a little like this one," he says as he looks. "But that creature was making us feel... more. Anger, fear, it was all more. It didn't hit Francis and I too hard, but there were a few fights that ended in deaths. Cannibalism, too. Not only Hickey. Ah, here: A boy, Kieren, who admitted to eating a woman, and admitted he'd done it before. That there was something different about him. There were the defence cases. There was Hickey, who admitted he gets hungrier than he'd used to — another one of those 'gifts', he can run longer too — he claimed self defence, admitted to eating the man after."

He looks up from the notebook, grimacing at Fitzjames before his gaze goes distant. "There was going to be a vote on what to do, but first we had to wait for a parade of of self righteous speeches and self-congratulation for telling us how forgiving we all ought to be. Francis — it hurt him to come. He hadn't healed. It set him back afterward, trying to stand for so long. He tried to tell them what Hickey had done before in sound mind, why he was dangerous, why they should take care, and got talked down by a child who treated him like a fool for being too emotional about a past he needed to put behind him. Not a single—"

He looks back down with a sharp inhale, shaking out his hand, and smothers a flame trying to grow on a corner of the page the notebook is open to. It leaves a charred edge behind — not the first on this particular set of pages — and Raju closes his eyes, taking a slow breath. He takes another. One more and his hands curl into fists as he concentrates, and the fire that wants to grow elsewhere springs out behind the one in the fireplace instead. He opens his eyes again, avoiding Fitzjames gaze in case the man is watching him.

"There wasn't a single consequence for anyone at all," he goes on, focusing on closing the notebook and putting it in the pile he'd gotten it from. "Hickey can get away with what he likes, and he knows it. All he needs to do is give them a reason to look away while he does it."

James might've settled on the floor as well, not really intending to be looming over Raju, but getting up from the floor is still a bit more effort than he wants to commit to expending. So instead he leans a little against the nearest wall, posture relaxed but interested, listening closely when Raju begins.

He does indeed watch him, noting his tone and the distant gaze, as well as the brief displays of fire; those make him nervous, just as they had in the cave, but he tries to ignore them for now. What Raju's telling him in more than enough to focus on for now, and very concerning to hear.

On one hand, it isn't a huge surprise that people here may not want to take serious action against someone who, as Hickey is very much capable of, could explain their actions in a way that leaves some amount of doubt in their guilt. James is, after all, someone who tends to behave the same way; when in command of a ship he tended to lead by relying on the respect of his men, typically ignoring minor infractions to prevent resentment or fear from building up amongst his crew, and in turn he'd hardly ever had to deal with serious issues. Even during the Expedition that had held well enough, as himself and Dundy had managed Erebus alone for months without any serious incidents.

That had not only been for the best because it meant everything was calm, but because James truly has very little stomach for more serious punishments. He's much more likely to err on the side of being too lenient, and so he does understand why some here might be that way as well. Perhaps they truly hadn't wanted to do anything when the situation was complex and they only had Francis' word to go on that Hickey was always this way.

But just because he can understand it doesn't make it any less worrying. It certainly means that they can't rely on the other Interlopers to see through Hickey's behavior, but then again, James had never really expected that from them to begin with. They are, after all, just like anyone else; they'll listen to whoever they're most familiar with, and whoever has the most charm and the best story. No different than anyone or anywhere else, and more than one person can play at the same game.

James is silent for several seconds, considering all of this and what he does and doesn't want to say. He wants to know more details, particularly about the other deaths and who had been involved--he has a suspicion about one of them, based on other things he's heard--but he's also cautious about getting Raju too amped up considering the fire issue. So, finally, he settles on something simple enough, and the most important part of it all.

"Perhaps that is true, but such distractions won't work on me. I'm well aware of what he is, and what he's capable of." And as much as James has no desire for or interest in violence, there is still a line that can be crossed. He would very much prefer not to have to do anything, and let the threat that he will if necessary be deterrent enough, but unfortunately he's pretty sure Hickey doesn't take him seriously enough for that.

Ultimately, though, if it comes down to it, that would be his mistake.

While Fitzjames is quiet, Raju focuses on trying to put his part of the fire in the fireplace out. It won't go yet; Francis may have forgiven the lot of them, because his nature is what it is. But Raju hasn't.

Then Fitzjames does respond, and it's a satisfying thing to hear. Raju focuses on him again, smile sharp and growing. He nods. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, and moves to look into the pot. Not having the right tools makes straining and pouring the thing a bit of a trick but he's been doing it long enough to manage, and in a moment he's handing Fitzjames a cup. The tin one, because guests get certain privileges, even if it might pain the host to give them; the 'I love you with all my butt' mug Raju keeps.

"Sit down," he nods to Francis' usual armchair. "How have you been? This place's latest nonsense didn't hit you too badly, I hope?"

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